
Class mi74 
Book A^ 



WVWV W». V^/X »(«/*■ . 



.•./»/\ »'%r» ■>. v-v ww*/vvwvvx.vw w%vwvv\ 



]N°- XXXVI. 

OXBERRY'S 
JVETV 

THE 

COUXTHY GIRL, ^ 

A COMEDY f 

ALTERED FROM WYCHERLEY. 



Ba^itr &iuvvitU. 



BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED BY WELL^ AND LILLY— COURT-STREET 

A. T. (iOODRlCH & CO NEW- YORK. 

E. LITTELL, PHlLADELPtHA. 

\.-v> -»/v» 'W* -w% iX /*<» wv >/v» "Vl/X -^/x/x •v/x/^ -v/*/^ -^ 



m^m 



GftNTArNED IN THIS EDITION, AS FAR AS YET PUB"- 
LISHED IN ENGLAND. 



No. 1 A New Way to Pay Old 
Debts. 

2 Rivals. 

3 West Indian. 

4 Hypocrite. 

5 Jealous Wife. 

6 She Stoops to Conquer. 

7 Richard III. 

8 Beggar's Opera. 

9 Wonder. 

10 Duenna. 

11 Alexander the Great. 

12 Lionel and Clarissa. 

13 Hamlet. 

14 Venice Preserved. 

15 Is He Jealous.^ * 

16 The Woodman's Hut. * 

17 Love in a Village. 

18 Way to Keep Him. 

19 Castle Spectre. 

20 Maid of the Mill. 

21 Clandestine Marriage. 

22 Soldier's Daughter. 

23 Othello. 
24.pis*tressed Mother. 
2^ Provoked Husband. 

26 .^eaf and Dumb. 

27 Busy Body. 

28 Belle's Stratagem. 

29 Romeo and Juliet. 

30 Recruirtng Officer. 

31 Bold Stroke for a Wife. 

32 Road to Ruin. 

33 Beaux' Stratagem. 

34 As you Like It. 

35 King John. I 

[0= Tliose marked thus * are Farces or Melo-drames ; the 
prices of which are 20 cents; the Plays and Operas 25 cents. 



36 Country Girl. 

37 Jane Shore. 

38 Critic. * 

39 Coriolanus. 

40 Rosina. * 

41 Suspicious Husband. 

42 Honest Thieves. * 

43 Mayor of Garratt. * 

44 Merry Wives of Windsor. 

45 Stranger. 

46 Three Weeks after Mar- 

riage. * 

47 King Lear. 

48 Inconstant. 

49 Shipwreck. * 

50 Rugantino. * 

51 Wild Oats. ^^ 

52 Rale a Wife and Hav™a 

Wife. 

53 Magpie. * 

54 Quaker. * 

55 Merchant of Venice. 

56 Wheel of Fortune. 

57 Rob Roy. 

58 Citizen. * 

59 Deserter. * 

60 Miser. * 

61 Guy Mannering. 

62 Cymbeline. 

63 Lying Valet. * 

64 Twelfth Night. 

65 The Confederacy. 

66 Dounlas. 

67 Who's the Dupe? * 

68 Know Your own Mind. 



©jctirrvfi's iStrition. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

A COMEDY ; 

ALTERED FROM WYCHERLEY. 



' 7 / ^ 



WITH PREFATORY REMARKS. 

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY 

MARKED WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, 

AND STAGE DIRECTIONS, 

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE 

Wamixtn iXo|>aL 

By W. OXBERRY, Comedian.] . ., 



BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED BY WELLS AND LILLY — COURT-STREET 

A, T. GOODRICH & CO. — NEW-YORK : 

E. LITTELL, PHILADELPHU. 

1822. 



A^' 






/fe7nv 



MtmuvU^. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 



X HE language and characters of the Country Girl are 
sprightly and entertaining ; there is not perhaps much wit 
or humour in the dialogue, but it is entertaining from its 
archness, and the characters are natural and well discrimi- 
nated. Take it altogether the comedy does not belong to 
the higher class of the drama; it however holds a distin- 
guished place in the second rank of excellence, no little 
praise, if we consider the many and admirable pieces of 
which it thus takes precedence. 

This style of writing is often more effective in the repre- 
sentation than that which in reality is its superior ; it is 
more easily, and therefore better, acted, with the additional 
advantage of presenting nothing but what is familiar to the 
minds and habits of the least informed spectators. A Moody 
and a Peggy are by no means of so rare occurrence that w© 
need be at a loss to understand their characters or their 
language. They speak the dialogue of general life, and 
though their oddities might raise a smile at the follies of 
fashion, they would not be considered more whimsical than 
the many monsters which are daily exhibited uncaged and 
unfettered in the streets of the metropolis. Perhaps the 
great beauty of this comedy is, that nothing in it is over- 
charged ; there is much whim but no caricature. 



The plot is interesting and sufficiently probable for dra- 
matic purposes : — The incidents are not numerous, but to 
make amends are compacted into a whole, from which 
nothing can be taken without detriment to the remainder j 
in fact the two parts of the plot are so well linked together 
and so intimately connected, that it is not very easy at first 
sight to distinguish the double fictions ; they have all the 
appearance of unity. Of course we speak of it as now 
printed and acted ; Garrick has dex-iated considerably from 
the original, whether to the advantage of the piece in the 
closet we will not pretend to say, but as a production for 
the stage it certainly has been infinitely improved by his ju- 
dicious alterations. It is a melancholy truth, that while 
many of our most brilliant dramas are utterly ineffective 
when acted, their inferior rivals are played with unbound- 
ed approbation ; nor is there in this a just cause for won- 
der ; it can scarcely be otherwise ; the one is so sublime in 
its beauty that it is neither to be acted or understood but 
by minds familiar with poetry, and capable of its excel- 
lence ; neither the actor nor the very limited powers of 
scenic deception can realize its fictions ; whereas the good- 
humoured every-day-efforts of the minor drama have all 
the advantages which arise out of humbleness : every one 
comprehends, and every one is familiar with them ; nothing 
is attempted but what is realized, and if the reader is never 
much pleased, the spectator will never be much disappoint- 
ed. 



^voloflur. 



SPOKEN BY MR. HART. 



Poets, like cudgell'd bullies, never do 

At first or second blow submit to you ; 

But will provoke you still, and ne'er have done, 

Till you are wearj'^ first with laying on. 

The late so baffled scribbler of this daj'. 

Though he stands trembling, bids me boldly say. 

What we before most plays are us'd to do, 

(For poets, out of fear, first draw on you) ; 

In a fierce prologue, the still pit defy. 

And ere you speak, like Kastril, give the lie ; 

But though our Bayes's battles oft I've fought, 

And with bruis'd knuckles their dear conquests bought 

Nay, never yet fear'd odds upon the stage. 

In prologue dare not hector with the age ; 

But would take quarter from your saving hands, 

Though Bayes within all yielding countermands ; 

Says 5'^ou confed'rate wits no quarter give, 

Therefore his play shan't ask your leave to live. 

Well, let the vain, rash fop, by hufiing so, 
Think to obtain the better terms of you ; 
But we, the actors, humbly will submit. 
Now, and at any time, to a full pit ; 
1 * 



PROLOGUE. 

Nay, often we anticipate your rage, 
And murder poets for you on our stage : 
We set no guards upon our tyring-room ; 
But when with flying colours there you come, 
We patiently, you see, give up to you 
Our poets, virgins, nay, our matrons too. 



STtmc ot Mz^xtHtnt^tmu 



The time this piece takes in representation, is one 
hour and thirty-four minutes. The first act occupies the 
space cf fifteen minutes — the second, twenty-one — the 
third, fifteen — the fourth, twenty-five — and the fifth, eigh- 
teen. The half-price commences, generally, at a quarter 
before nine o'clock. 



Stage Directions. 



By R.H. - = - - - is meant Right Hand. 

L.H. - = Left Hand. 

S.E. >»- .,-__ Second Entrance. 

u.E. Upper Entrance. 

M.D. --- Middle Door. 

D.F. Door in Flat. 

R.H.D. -. Right Hand Door. 

L.H.D Left Hand Door. 



Costume* 



MOODY. 



Drab coat, gilt buttons, scarlet kerseymere waistcoat bound with gold 
brocade ; a pair of drab breeches, shoesj buckles, and drab stockings. 

HARCOURT. 

Blue coat, white waistcoat, black dress breeclKs, and opera hat. 
SPARKISH. 

A black velvet coat, full dress, Ihied with buff silk, gold buttons ; buff 
silk, waistcoat and breeches, and opera dress hat. 

BELVILLE. 
A green coat, white waistcoat, dress bx-eeclies, and opera hat. 

FOOTMAN. 
A suit of livery. 

COUNTRYMAN. 
Drab cloth livery suit. 

WILLIAM. 
A brown cloth suit. 

SERVANT. 

A suit of liveij'. 

PEGGY. 

First Dress— Wjite frock.— Second Dress— petticoat and veil like All- 
thea's.— Third Dress- Blue coat, trowsers, and white waistcoat. 

ALITHEA. 

Blue satin dress, trimmed with white lace. 

LUCY. 

Coloured gown, and white, apron. 



iirvsons iiepvtsentctr. 



Moody • • . 

Harfourt - • 

Sparkish - • 

Belviile - - 

IViiliam - • 
Counlryman, 

John - • - 

Miss Peggy - 

Alithea - - • 

Lucy • - • 



As Originally acted. 
Mr Hart. 
Mr. Kynaston. 
Mr. Haynes. 
Mr. Lydal. 



Drury Lane, 1799 . 
Mc. Wroughton. 
Mr. Barrymore. 
Mr. Dodd. 
Mr. Bannister. 
Mr. Spencer. 
Mr Jones. 
Mr Alfred. 



Mrs. Bowtel. Mrs. Jordan. 
^Irs. James. Mrs. Ward. 

Mrs. Cory. Mrs. Wilson. 



Drury.lane, CorvenUgarden. 

Moody ..-------- ]Mr. jattie. Mr Fawcett.' 

Harrourt ---------Mr Wai ack. Mr. Ban-yraore. 

SOarkish Mr IVnley. Mr. Fa- ley. 

Belviile .-------- Mr Barnard. Mr Hamerton. 

IVHUum --------- Mr. Maddocks. Mr Menage. 

Comilryman --- Mr. Miiiton. Mr Howell. 

John Mr. Coveney. Mr. VV. Chapman- 

Miss Peggy -------- Mrs. Mardyn. Mrs Alsop. 

Alithea --------- ^'a-s. Oigcr. Miss Muthews. 

Lucy ---------- Miss I'idswell . Mrs. Gibbs. 

SCEJVE—London. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — Harcourt's Lodgings, 

Harcourt, l.h. and Belville, r.h. discovered 
sitting. 

Har. Ha, ha, ha ! and so you are in love, ne- 
phew ; not reasonably and gallantly, as a young 
gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably so ; 
not content to be ankle-deep, you have sous'd 
over head and ears — ha, Dick ? 

Bel. I am pretty much in that condition, in- 
deed, uncle. {Sighs.) 

Har. Nay, never blush at it : vvhen I was of 
your age 1 was asham d too ; but three years 
at college, and half a one at Paris, methinks 
should have cured you of that unfashionable 
weakness — modesty. 

Bel. Could I have released myself from that, 
I had perhaps been at this instant happy in the 
possession of what I must despair now ever to 
obtain — Heigho ! 



10 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Har. Ha, ha, ha ! very foolish indeed. 

Bel. Don't laugh at me, uncle ; I am foolisb, 
I know ; but, hke other fools, I deserve to be 
pitied. 

Bar. Pr'ythee don't talk of pity ; how can I 
help you ? For this country girl of yours is cer- 
tainly married. 

Bel. No, no — I won't believe it; she is not 
married, nor she shan't be, if I can help it. 

Har. Well said, modesty ; with such a spirit 
you can help yourself, Dick, without my assis- 
tance- 

Bel. But you must encourage and advise me 
too, or I shall never make any thing of it. 

Har. Provided the girl is not married ; for I 
never encourage young men to covet their 
neighbours' wives. 

Bel. My heart assures me, that she is not mar- 
ried. 

Har. O, to be sure, your heart is much to be 
relied upon ; but to convince you that 1 have a 
fellow-feeling of your distress, and that I am as 
nearly allied to you in misfortunes as in relation- 
ship, you must know 

Bel. What, uncle ? You alarm me I 

Har. That 1 am in love too. 

Bel. Indeed! 

Har. Miserably in love, 

Bel. That's charming. 

Har- And my mistress is just going to be mar- 
ried to another. 

Bel. Better and better. 

Har. 1 knew my fellow-suflferings would please 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 11 

you ; but now prepare for the wonderful won- 
der-of-wonders ! 

Bel. Well. 

Har. My mistress is in the same house with 
yours. 

Bel. What, are you in love with Peggy too ? 
{Rising from his Chair.) 

Har. Well said, jealousy. No, no, set your 
heart at rest ; your Peggy is too young, and too 
simple for me. I must have one a little more 
knowing, a little better bred, just old enough to 
see the difference between me and a coxcomb, 
spirit enough to break from a brother's engage- 
ments, and choose for herself. 

Bel. You don't mean Alithea, who is to be 
married to Mr. Sparkish ? 

Har. Can't I be in love with a lady that is 
going to be married to another, as well as you, 
sir? 

Bel. But Sparkish is your friend ? 

Har. Pr'ythee don't call him my friend ; he 
can be nobody's friend, not even his own. — He 
would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would 
introduce me to his mistress, though 1 have told 
him again and again that I was in love with her ; 
which, instead of ridding me of him, has made 
him only ten times more troublesome, and me 
really in love. He should suffer for his self-suf- 
ficiency. 

Bel. 'Tis a conceited puppy ! — And what suc- 
cess with the lady ? 

Har. No great hopes ; and yet if I could de- 
fer the marriage a few days, 1 should not des- 



12 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

pair; her honour, I am confident, is her only 
attachment to my rival : she can't hke Spark- 
ish ; and if I can work upon his credulity, a cre- 
dulity which even popery would be ashamed of, 
1 may yet have the chance of throwing sixes 
upon the dice to save me. 

Bel. Nothing can save me. 

Har. No, not if you whine and sigh, when 
you should be exerting every thing that is man 
about you. I have sent Sparkish, who is admit- 
ted at all hours in the house, to know how the 
land lies for you, and if she is not married al- 
ready. 

Bel. How cruel you are — you raise me up 
with one hand, and then knock me down with 
the other. 

Har. Well, well, she shan't be married. 
(Knocking at the Door, l.h.) This is Sparkish, I 
suppose : dont drop the least hint of your pas- 
sion to him ; if you do, you may as well adver- 
tise it in the public papers. 

Bel. I'll be careful. 

Enter a Servant, l.h.©. 

Serv. An odd sort of a person, from the coun- 
try, 1 believe, who calls himself Moody, wants to 
see you, sir ; but as I did not know him, I said 
you were not at home, but would return direct- 
ly ; " And so will I too," said he, very shortly 
and surlily ! and away he went mumbling- to him- 
self. 

Har. Very well, Will ; I'll see him when he 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 13 

comes. [Exit<f Servant^ l.h.d.] Moody call to 
see me ! — He has something more in his head 
than making me a visit ; 'tis to complain of you, 
1 suppose. 

Bel. How can he know me ? 

Har. We must suppose the worst, and be pre- 
pared for him ; tell me all you know of this 
ward of his, this Peggy — Peggy what's her 
name ? 

Bel. Thrift, Thrift, uncle. 

Har. Ay, ay, sir Thomas Thrift's daughter, 
of Hampshire ; and left very young, under the 
guardianship of my old companion and acquaint- 
ance. Jack Moody. 

Bel. Your companion ! — he's old enough to be 
your father. 

Har. Thank you, nephew — he has greatly 
the advantage of me in years, as well as wis- 
dom. When I first launched from the universi- 
ty, into this ocean of London, he was the great- 
est rake in it ; 1 knew him well for near two 
years, but all of a sudden he took a freak (a 
very prudent one) of retiring wholly into the 
country, 

Bel. There he gain'd such an ascendency 
over the odd disposition of his neighbour, sir 
Thomas, that he left him sole guardian to his 
daughter ; who forfeits half her fortune, if she 
does not marry with his consent—there's the 
devil, uncle. 

Har. And are you so young, so foolish, and so 
much in love that you vvould take her with half 
her value ? Ha, nephew ? 
2 



14 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Bel. ril take her with any thing — with no- 
thing. 

Ear. What ! such an unaccomphsh'd, awk- 
ward, silly creature ? He has scarce taught her 
to write ; she has seen nobody to converse with, 
but the country people about 'em ; so she can 
do nothing but dangle her arms, look gawky, 
turn her toes in, and talk broad Hampshire. 

Bel. Don't abuse her sweet simpHcity ; had 
you but heard her talk, as I have done, from the 
garden-wall in the country, by moonlight 

Har. Romeo and Juliet, I protest, ha, ha, ha ! 
" Arise fair sun, and kill the envious — " ha, ha, 
ha! How often have you seen this fair Capulet? 

Bel. I saw her three times in the country, 
and spoke to her twice ; I have leapM an orch- 
ard wall, like Romeo, to come at her ; played 
the balcony scene, from an old summer-house 
in the garden ; and if I lose her, I will find out 
an apothecary, and play the tomb scene too. 

Har. Well said, Dick ! — this spirit must pro- 
duce something ; but has the old dragon ever 
caught you sighing at her ? 

Bd. Never in the country; he saw me yes- 
terday kissing my hand to her, from the new 
tavern window that looks upon the back of his 
house, and immediately drove her from it, and 
fastened up the window-shutters. 

Spark, (l^ithout, l.h.) Very well, Will, Til 
go up to 'em. 

Har. [ hear Sparkish coming up ; take care 
of what 1 told you ; not a word of Peggy ; hear 
his intelligence, and meikc use of it, without 
seeming to mind it. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 15 

Bel. Mum, mum, uncle. 

Enter Sparkish, l.h.d. 

Spark. O. my dear Harcourt, I shall die with 
laughing; I have such news for thee— ha, ha, 
ha ! — What, your nephew too, and a little dump- 
ish, or so ; you have been giving him a lecture 
upon economy, I suppose — you, who never had 
any, can best describe the evils that arise from 
the want of it. I never mind my own affairs, 
not !, — " The gods take care of Cato." — (^Cross- 
es to centre.) — I hear, Mr. Belville, you have 
got a pretty snug house, with a bow-window 
that looks into the Park, and a back door that 
goes out into it. Very convenient, and well- 
imagined — no young handsome fellow should be 
without one — you may be always ready there, 
like a spider in his web, to seize upon stray'd 
women of quality. 

Har, As you used to do — you vain fellow 
you ; pr'ythee don't teach my nephew your 
abandoned tricks . he is a modest young man, 
and you must not spoil him. 

Spark. May be so, but his modesty has done 
some mischief at our house — my surly, jealous 
brother in law saw that modest young gentle- 
man casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, 
from the new tavern window. 

Bel. You mistake the person, Mr. Sparkish ; 
I don't know what young lady you mean. 

Har. Explain yourself, Sparkish, you must 
mistake ; Dick has never seen the girl. 



16 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Spark. I don't say he has ; 1 only tell you 
what Moody says. Besides, he went to the ta- 
vern himself, and enquired of the waiter who 
dined in the back room, No. 4 ; and they told 
him it was Mr. Belville, yo-ir nephew; that's 
all I know of the matter, or desire to know of it, 
faith. 

Har. He kiss'd his hand, in'^eed, to your lady, 
Alithea, and is more in love with her than you 
are, and very near as much as 1 am ; so look 
about you, such a youth may be dangerous. 

Spark. The more danger the more honour : 
I defy you both — win her and wear her if you 
can — Dolus an virtus in love as well as in war 
—though you must be expeditious, faith ; for I 
believe, if I don't change my mind, I shall mar- 
ry her to-morrow, or the day after. — Have you 
no honest clergyman, Harconrt, no fellow-colle- 
gian to recommend me, to do the business ? 

Har. Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. 
i^Aside.) Why, faith, I have, Sparkish ; my 
brother, a twin-brother, Ned Harcourt, will 
be in town to-day, and proud to attend your 
commands. — I am a very generous rival, you 
see, to lend you my brother to marry the woman 
I love ! 

Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother 
come so near us — [Crosses to r.h.) — but Ned 
shall be the man ; poor Alithea grows impa- 
tient ; I can't put off the evil day any longer. I 
fancy the brute, her brother, has a mind to mar- 
ry his country idiot at the same time. 

Bel. How, country idiot, sir ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 17 

Har. Hold your tongue. {Apart to Behille.) 
I thought he had been married already. 

Spark. No, no, he's not married, that's the 
joke of it. 

Bel. No, no, he is not married. 

Har. Hold your tongue — [Elbowing Behille.) 

Spark. Not he — I have the finest story to tell 
you — {Crosses to centre.) — by-the-by, he intends 
calHng upon you, for he asked me where you 
lived, to complain of modesty there. He picked 
up an old raking acquaintance of his as we 
came along together. Will Frankly, who saw 
him with his girl, skulking and muffled up, at 
the play last night ; he plagu'd him much about 
matrimony, and his being ashamed to show him- 
self: swore he was in love with his wife, and 
intended to cuckold him. " Do you V cried 
Moody, folding his arms, and scowling with his 
eyes thus — " You must have more wit than you 
used to have ; besides, if you have as much as 
you think you have, I shall be out of your reach, 
and this profligate metropolis, in less than a 
week." — Moody would fain have got rid of him, 
but the other held him by the sleeve, so I left 
'em ; rejoiced most luxuriously to see the poor 
devil tormented. 

Bel. I thought you said, just now, that he was 
not married : is not that a contradiction, sir ? 

[Harcourt still makes signs to Belville.) 

Spark. Why, it is a kind of one ; but consider- 
ing your modesty, and the ignorance of the 
young lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, 
methiak? j ha, Harcourt ! ha, ha, ha ! 



18 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Har. Pooh, pooh ! don't talk to that boy, tell 
me all you know. 

Spark. \ ou must know, my booby of a brother- 
in-law hath brought up this ward of his (a good 
fortune let me tell you), as he coops up and 
fattens his chickens for his own eating ; he is 
plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that 
he could not marry her in the country, without 
coming up to town ; which he could not do on 
account of some writings or other ; so Avhat 
does my gentleman? He persuades the poor 
silly girl, by breaking a sixpence, or some 
nonsense or another, that they are to all intents 
married in heaven ; but that the laws require 
the signing of articles, and the church service to 
complete their union : so he has made her call 
him husband, and bud, which she constantly 
does ; and he calls her wife, and gives out she 
is married, that she may not look after younger 
fellows, nor younger fellows after her, egad ; 
ha, ha, ha ! and all won't do. [Crosses to l.h.) 

Bel. Thank you, sir. What heavenly news, 
uncle ! {Asidc.\ 

Har. What an idiot you are, nephew ! {Apart.) 
And so then you make but one trouble of it, 
and are both to be tack'd together the same 
day? 

Spark. No, no, he can't be married this week ; 
he damns the lawyers for keepmg him in town ; — 
besides, I am out of favour ; and he is continually 
snarhng at me, and abusing me for not being 
jealous. [Knocking at the Door.) There he is 
— 1 must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 19 

something ; I'll go with jour nephew to his 
house, and we'll wait for you, and make a visit 
to my wife that is to be, and perhaps we shall 
show young modesty here a sight of Peggy too. 

Enter a Servant^ l.h.d. 

Serv. Sir, here's the strange odd sort of a 
gentleman come again, and I have shown him 
into the fore-parlour. 

Spark. That must be Moody ! Well said, Will ; 
an odd sort of a strange gentleman indeed ; 
we'll step into the next room till he comes into 
this, and then you may have him all to yourself 
— much good may he do you. [Goings r.h.) 
Remember that he is married, or he'll suspect 
me of betraying him. 

[Exeimt Sparkish and Behllle^ r.h.d. 

Har. Show him up. Will. [Exit Servant^ l.h.d. 
Now must I prepare myself to see a very 
strange, though a very natural metamorphosis ; 
a once high-spirited, handsome, weil-dress'd, 
raking prodigal of the town, sunk into a surly, 
suspicious, economical, country sloven. 

Enter Moody, l.h.d. 

Moody. Mr. Ilarcourt, your humble servant : 
have you forgot me ? 

Har. What, my old friend, Jack Moody ! by 
thy long absence from the town, the grumness 
of thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy 
habit, I should give thee joy — ^you are certainly 
married. 



20 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Moody. My long stay in the country will ex- 
cuse my dress, and I have a suit at law that 
brings me up to town, and puts me out of 
humour ; besides, I must give Sparkish ten 
thousand pounds to-morrow to take my sister oflf 
my hands. 

Har. Your sister is very much obliged to you : 
being so much older than her, you have taken 
upon you the authority of a father, and have 
engaged her to a coxcomb. 

Moody. I have, and to oblige her : nothing 
but coxcombs or debauchees are the favourites 
now-a-days ; and a coxcomb is rather the more 
innocent animal of the two. 

Har. She has sense and taste, and can't like 
him ; so you must answer for the consequences. 

Moody. When she is out of my hands, her 
husband must look to the consequences. He's 
a fashionable fool, and will cut his horns kindly. 

Har. And what is to secure your worship from 
consequences ? — I did not expect marriage from 
such a rake — one that knew the town so well ; 
fie, fie. Jack. 

Moody. I'll tell you my security — I have mar- 
ried no London wile. 

Har. Thafs allone ; that grave circumspec- 
tion in marrying a country wife, is like refusing 
a deceitful, paraper'd, Smithfield jade, to go and 
be cheated by a friend in the country. 

Moody. 1 wish the devil had both him and his 
simile. {Jside.) 

Har. Well, never grumble about it, what's 
done can't be undone. Is your wife handsome 
and young ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 21 

Moody. She has little beauty but hef youth, 
nothing" to brag of but her health, and no attrac- 
tion bu* her modesty — whoh'some, homely, and 
housewifely — that's all. 

Har. You talk as like a grazier as you look, 
Jack. — Why did you not bring her to Iowa 
before, to be taught something ? 

Moody. Which something 1 might repent as 
long as 1 live. 

Har. But pr'ythee, why wouldst thou marry 
her, if she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly ? She must 
be rich then ? 

Moody. As rich as if she had the wealth of 
the mogul. She'll not ruin her husband, like a 
London baggage, with a million of vices she 
never heard of: then, because she's ugly, she's 
the likeiier to be my own ; and being ill-bred, 
she'll hate conversation ; and since silly and 
innocent, will not know the difference between 
me and you ; that is, between a man of thirty, 
and one of forty. 

Har. Fifty to my knowledge. [Moody turns off^ 
and grumbles.) — But see how you and 1 differ, 
Jack — wit to me is more necessary than beauty ; 
1 think no young woman ugly that has it, and 
no handsome woman agreeable without it. 

Moody. 'Tis my maxim — He's a fool that 
marries ; but he's a greater that does not marry 
a fool. — I know the town, Mr. Harcoart ; and 
my wife shall be virtuous in spite of you or your 
nephew. 

Har. My nephew ! — poor sheepish lad, he runs 
away from every woman he sees : he saw your 



22 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

sister Alithea at the opera, and was much smit- 
ten with her ; he always toasts her, and hates 
the very name of Sparkish. I'll bring him to 
your house, and you shall see what a formidable 
Tarquin he is. 

Moody. I have no curiosity, so give yourself 
no trouble. — You hare heard of a wolf in sheep's 
clothing ; and I have seen your innocent nephew 
kissing his hands at my windows. 

Har. At your sister, 1 suppose ; not at her 
unless he was tipsy. How can you, Jack, be so 
outrageously suspicious ? Sparkish has promised 
to introduce him to his mistress. 

Moody. Sparkish is a fool, and may be what 
I'll take care not to be. — 1 confess my visit to 
you, Mr. Harcourt, was partly for old acquaint- 
ance sake, but chiefly to desire your nephew to 
confine his gallantries to the tavern, and not 
send 'em in looks, signs, or tokens, on the other 
side of the way. I keep no brothel ; so pray 
tell your nephew. (^Gomg., l.h.) 

Har. Nay, pr'ythee. Jack, leave me in better 
humour. Well, I'll tell him ; ha, ha, ha ! Poor 
Dick, how he'll stare. This will give him a 
reputation, and the girls won't laugh at him any 
longer. Shall we dine together at the tavern, 
and send for my nephew to chide him for his 
gallantry ? Ha, ha, ha ! we shall have fine sport. 

JVIoody. I am not to be laugh'd out of my 
senses, Mr. Harcourt. — I was once a modest 
young gentlemen myself; and I never have 
been half so mischievous before or since, as I 
was in that state of iLnocence. — And so, old 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 23 

friend, make no ceremony with me ; I have much 
business, and you have much pleasure, and 
therefore, as I hate forms, I will excuse your 
returning my visit, or sending your nephew to 
satisfy me of his modesty — and so your servant. 

[Exit, L.H.D. 

Har. Ha, ha, ha ! poor Jack ! what a life of 
suspicion does he lead I I pity the poor fellow, 
though he ought and will suffer for his folly — 
Folly! — 'tis treason, murder, sacrilege! When 
persons of a certain age will indulge their false, 
ungenerous appetites, at the expense of a young 
creature's happiness, dame Nature will revenge 
herself upon them, for thwarting her most 
heavenly will and pleasure. [Exit, r.h.b, 

BND OF ACT I, 



ACT II. 

SCENE I.-— ^ Chamber in Moodyh House, 

Enter Peggy and Alithea, r.h. 

Peggy. Pray, sister, where are the beat fields 
and woods to walk in in London ? 

Jili. A pretty question ! Why, sister, Vauxhall, 
Kensington Gardens, and St. James's Park, are 
the most frequented- 



24 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. Pray, sister, tell me why my bud looks 
so grum here in town, and keeps me up so close, 
and won't let me go a walking, nor let me wear 
my best gown yesterday. 

AH. O, he's jealous, sister ! 

Peggy. Jealous ! what's that ? 

Ali. He's afraid you should love another man. 

Peggy. How should he be afraid of my loving 
another man, when he will not let me see any 
but himself? 

Jlli. Did he not carry you yesterday to the 

play ? 

Peggy. Ay ; but we sat amongst ugly people : 
he would not let me come near the gentry, who 
sat under us, so that I could not see 'em. He 
told me none but naughty women sat there ; 
but I would have ventured for all that. 

Ali. But how did you like the play ? 

Peggy. Indeed I was weary of the play; but 
I liked hugeously the actors ; they are the good- 
liest, properest men, sister. 

Alt. O, but you must not like the actors, 
sister. 

Peggy. Ay, how should I help it, sister ? Pray, 
sister, when my guardian comes in, will you ask 
leave for me to go a walking ? 

Ali A walking ! ha, ha, ha ! Lord, a country 
gentlewoman's pleasure is the drudgery of a 
foot-post ; and she requires as much airing as her 
husband's horses. {Aside.) But here comes my 
brother; Pll ask him, though I'm sure he'll 
not grant it. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 25 



Enter Moody, l.h. 

Peggy. O my dear, dear bud, welcome home ; 
who dost thou look so fropish ? Who has nager'd 
thee? 

Moody. You're a fool. 

{P^ggy goes aside and cries.") 

AH. Faith, and so she is for crymg for no 
fault ; poor tender creature ! 

Moody. What, would you have her as impu- 
dent as yourself; as arrant a girltlirt, a gadder, 
a magpie ; and to say all, a mere notorious town 
woman ! 

Ali. Brother, you are my only censurer ; and 
the honour of our family will soon suffer in your 
wife that is to be, than in me, though 1 take the 
innocent liberty of the town ! 

Moody. Hark you, mistress ! do not talk so be- 
fore my wife : the innocent liberty of the town I 

Ali. Pray, what ill people frequent my lodg- 
ings ? I keep no company with any woman of 
scandalous reputation. 

Moody. No, you keep the men of scandalous 
reputation company. 

Ali. Would you not have me civil ? Answer 
them at public places ? Walk with them when 
they join me in the Park, Kensington Gardens, 
or Vauxhall ? 

Moody. Hold, hold; do not teach my wife 
where the men are to be found ; I believe she's 
the worse for your town documents already. \ 
bid you keep her in ignorance as I do. 
3 



26 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, 
she will tell me nothing of the town, though I 
ask her a thousand times a day. 

Moody. Then you are very inquisitive to know, 
I find. 

Peggy. Not I indeed, dear ; I hate London : 
our place-house in the country is worth a thou- 
sand oft ; would I were there again ! 

Moody. So you shall I warrant. But were 
you not talking of plays and players when I came 
in ? You are her encourager in such discourses. 

{ToAlithea.) 

Peggy. No, indeed dear ; she chid me just 
now for liking the player-men. 

Moody. Nay, if she is so innocent as to own 
to me her liking them, there's no harm in't. 
{Aside.) Come, my poor rogue, but thou likest 
none better than me ? 

Peggy. Yes, indeed, but I do : the player men 
are finer folks. 

Moody. But you love none better than me ? 

Peggy. You are my own dear bud, and I know 
you : I hate strangers. 

Moody. Ay, my dear, you must love me only ; 
and not be hke the naughty town women, who 
only hate their husbands, and love every man 
else ; love plays, visits, fine coaches, fine clothes, 
fiddles, balls, treats, and so lead a wicked town 
life. 

Peggy. Nay, if to enjoy all these things be a 
town life, London is not so bad a place dear. 

Moody. How ! if you love me you must hate 
London. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 27 

Peggy. But, bud, do the town women love the 
player men too ? 

Moody. Ay I warrant you. 

Peggy. Ay, I warrant you. 

Moody. Why, you do not I hope ? 

Peggy. No, no, bud ; but why have we no 
player-men in the country ? 

Moody. Ha ! Mrs. Minx, ask me no more to 
go to a play. 

Peggy. Nay, why, love ? I did not care for 
going ; but when you forbid me, you make me as 
it were desire it. Pray let me go to a play, 
dear? 

Moody. Hold your peace ; I won't. 

Peggy. Why, love? 

Moody. Why, I'll tell you. 

Peggy. Pray, why, dear? 

Moody. First, you like the actors : and the gal- 
lants may like you. 

Peggy. What, a homely country girl ? No, bud, 
nobody will hke me. 

Moody. I tell you yes, they may. 

Peggy. No, no, you jest — I won't believe you ; 
I will go. 

Moody. I tell you then, that one of the most 
raking fellows in town, who saw you there, told 
me he was in love with you. 

Peggy. Indeed : who, who, pray, who was't ? 

Moody. I've gone too far, and »slipt before I 
was aware. How overjoy'd she is I (^Aside.) 

Peggy. Was it any Hampshire gallant ? any of 
our neighbours ? — 'Promise you I am beholden 
to hira. 



28 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Moody. I promise you, you lie ; for he would 
but ruin you, as he has done hundreds. 

Peggy. Ay, but if he loves me, why should he 
ruin me ? Answer me to that. Methinks he 
should not ; I would do him no harm. 

Ali. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Moody. 'Tis very well ; but I'll keep him 
from doing you any harm, or me either. But 
here comes company ; get you in, get you in. 

Peggy. But pray, husband is he a pretty gen- 
tleman that loves me ? 

Moody. In baggage, in. (^Thrusts her in, r.h.d. 
nnd shuts the Door.) What, all the libertines of 
the town brought to my lodging by this easy cox- 
comb I *Sdeath, Til not suffer it. 

Enter Sparkish, Harcourt, and Belville, l.H. 

Spark. Here, Belville, do you approve my 
choice ? Dear little rogue, I told you I'd bring 
you acquainted with ali my friends, the wits. 

(7b Jlithea."^ 

Moody. Ay, they shall know her as well as 
you yourself will, I warrant you. (^Aside.) 

Spark. This is one of those, my pretty rogue, 
that are to dance at your wedding to-morrow ; 
and one you must make welcome; for he's mo- 
dest. (^Belville crosses and salutes Alithea ; — Har. 
does the same) Harcourt makes himself welcome, 
and has not the same foible, though of the same 
family. 

Har. You are too obliging, Sparkish. 

{Alithea and Sparkish retire up the sta^c") 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 29 

Moody. And so he is indeed. The fop's horns 
will as naturally ?prout upon his brows as mush- 
rooms upon dung-hills. (^^side.) 

Har. This, Mr. Moody, is my nephew you 
mentioned to me. I would bring him with me ; 
for a sight of him will be sufficient, without 
poppy or mandragora to restore you to your 
rest. {Joins Alithea and Sparkish.) 

Bel. I am sorry, sir, that any mistake or im- 
prudence of mine should have given you any 
uneasiness : it was not so intended, 1 assure you, 
sir. 

Moody. It may be so, sir, but not the less 
criminal for that. — My wife, sir, must not be 
smirk'd and nodded at from tavern windows. I 
am a good shot, young gentleman, and don't suf- 
fer magpies to come near my cherries. 

Bel. Was it your wife, sir ? 

Moody. What's that to you, sir ? Suppose it 
were my grandmother ? 

Bel. 1 would not dare to offend her. — Permit 
me to say a word in private to you. 

[Exeunt Moody and Bel. l.h. 

Spark. Now old surly is gone, tell me, Har- 
court, if thou likest her as well as ever. — 
{Crosses to centre.) My dear, don't look down ; 
I should hate to have a wife of mine out of coun- 
tenance at any thing. 

AH, (r.h.) For shame, Mr. Sparkish ! 

Spark. Tell me, I say, Harcourt, how dost 
like her ? Thou hast stared upon her enough to 
resolve me. 

Har. (l.h.) So infinitely well, that I could 



o 



3@ THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

wish I had a mistress too, that might differ from 
her in nothing but her love and engagement to 
you. 

Ali. Sir, Mr. Sparkish has often told me that 
his acquaintance were all wits and railers; and 
now 1 find it. 

Spark. No, by the universe, madam, he does 
not rally noxv ; you may believe him. I do as- 
sure you he is the honestest, worthiest, truest- 
hearted gentleman ; a man of such perfect ho- 
nour, he would say nothing to a lady he does 
not mean. 

Har. Sir, you are so beyond expectation obli- 
ging that — 

Spark. Nay, 'egad, I am sure you do admire 
her extremely ; 1 see it in your eyes. — He does 
admire you, madam ; he has told me so a thou- 
sand and a thousand times ; have you not, Har- 
court ? You do admire her, by the world, you do 
— don't you? 

Har. Yes, above the world, or the most glo- 
rious part of it, her whole sex; and till now I 
never thought 1 should have envied you or any 
man about to marry ; but you have the best ex- 
cuse to marry I ever knew. 

Ali. Nay, now, sir, I am satisfied you are of 
the society of the wits and railers, since you 
cannot spare your friend, even when he is most 
civil to you ; but the surest sign is, you are an 
enemy to marriage, the common butt of every 
railer. 

Har. Truly, madam, I was never an enemy 
to marriage till now, because marriage was 
never an enemy to me before. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 31 

AH. But why, sir, is marriage an enemy to 
you now ? Because it robs you of your friend 
here ? For you look upon a friend married as 
one gone into a monastery, that is dead to the 
world. 

Har. 'Tis indeed because you marry him : I 
see, madam, you can guess my meaning. — I do 
confess heartily and openly, I wish it were in 
my power to break the match ; by heavens I 
would. 

Spark. Poor Frank ! 

AH. Would you be so unkind to me ? 

Har. No, no, 'tis not because I would be un- 
kind to you. 

Spark. Poor Frank ! No, 'egad, 'tis only his 
kindness to me. 

AH. Great kindness to you indeed ! — Insensi- 
ble ! Let a man make love to his mistress to his 
face. {Aside.) 

Spark. Come, dear Frank, for all my wife 
there, that shall be, thou shall enjoy my compa- 
ny sometimes, dear rogue. — By my honour, we 
men of wit condole for our deceased brother in 
marriage, as much as for one dead in earnest. 
I think that was prettily said of me, ha, Har- 
court. Pr'ythee, Frank dost think my wife 
that shall be, there, a tine person ? 

Har. I could gaze upon her till I became as 
blind as you are. 

Spark. How as I am ? How ? 

Har. Because you are a lover ; and true lovers 
are blind. 

Spark. True, true ; but by the world she has 
Tvit too as well as beauty. Go, go, with her in- 



152 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

to a corner, and try if she has wit ; {He puts 
Har. over to Ali) talk to her any thing, she's 
bashful before me— take her into a corner. 

(Har. courts Alithea aside^ R.h.) 

Re-enter Moody, l.h. 

Moody, How, sir ! If you are not concerned 
for the honour of a wife, I am for that of a sis- 
ter. — Be a pander to your own wife, bring men 
to her, let 'em make love before your face, 
thrust them into a corner together, then leave 
'em in private I Is this your town wit and con- 
duct ? 

Spark. Ha, ha, ha ! a silly, wise rogue would 
make one laugh more than a stark fool, ha, ha, 
ha ! 1 shall burst. Nay, you shall not disturb 
'em ; I'll vex thee by the world. What have 
you done with Belville ? 

{Struggles with Moody to keep him from Har- 
court and Alithea.) 

Moody. Shown him the way out of my house, 
as you should to that gentleman. 

Spark. Nay, but pr'ythee let me reason with 
thee. {Talks apart with Moody .^ l.h.) 

Ali. The writings are drawn, sir, settlements 
made : 'tis too late sir, and past all revocation. 

Har. Then so is my death. 

Ali. I would not be unjust to him. 

Har. Then why to me so ? 

Ali. I have no obligations to you. 

Har. My love. 

All. I had his before. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 33 

Har. You never had it: he wants you see, 
jealousy, the only infallible sig-n of it. 

AH. Love proceeds from esteem : he cannot 
distrust my virtue ; besides, he loves me, or he 
would not marry me. 

Har. Marrying you is no more a sign of his 
love, than bribing your woman, that he may 
marry you is a sign of his generosity. But if 
you take marriage for a sign of love, take it 
from me immediately. 

AH. No, now you have put a scruple in my 
head. — But in short, sir, to end our dispute, I 
must marry him ; my reputation would suffer in 
the world else. 

Har. No : if you do marry him, with your 
pardon, madam, your reputation must suffer in 
the world. 

AH. Nay, now you are rude, sir. — Mr. Spark- 
ish, pray come hither, your friend here is very 
troublesome and very loving. 

Har. Hold, hold. {Aside to AHthea.) 

Moody. D'ye hear that senseless puppy ? 

Spark. Why, d'ye think I'll seem jealous, like 
a country bumpkin ? 

Moody. No, rather be dishonour'd like a cre- 
dulous driveller. {They retire up the stage., l.h.) 

Har Madam, you would not have been so 
little generous as to have told him 1 

AH. Yes, since you could be so little generous 
as to wrong him. 

Har. Wrong him ! no man can do it ; he's 
beneath an injury : a bubble, a coward, a sense- 
less idiot ; a wretch, so contemptible to all the 
tvorld but you, that — 



34 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

AH. Hold, do not rail at him ; for since he is 
like to be my husband, I am resolved to like 
him : nay 1 think I am obliged to tell him you 
are not his friend.— Mr. Sparkish ! Mr. Sparkish ! 

{Crosses to him.) 

Spark. What, what ? — Now, dear rogue, has 
she not wit ? 

Har. Not so much as I thought, and hoped 
she had. {Surlily.) 

AH. Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail 
at you ? 

Har. Madam ! 

Spark. How ? No ; but if he does rail at me, 
'tis but in jest, 1 warrant : what we wits do for 
one another, and never lake any notice of it. 

AH. He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no 
patience to hear him. 

Moody. And he was in the right on't. 

AH. Besides, he has been making love to me. 

Moody. And I told the fool so. 

Har. True, damn'd, tell tale woman. {Aside.) 

Spark. Pshaw ! to show his parts ; we wits 
rail and make love often, but to show our parts : 
as we have no affections, so we have no malice ? 
We— 

Moody. Did you ever hear such an ass ? 

AH. He said you were a wretch below an 
injury 

Spark. Pshaw ! 

AH. A common bubble. 

Spark. Pshaw I 

AH. A coward. 

Spark. Pshaw ! pshaw ! 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 35 

AH. A senseless, drivelling idiot. 

Moody. True, true, true ; all true. 

Spark. How ! did he disparage my parts ? 
Nay then, my honour's concerned 1 can't put 
up that. Brother help me to kill him. 

{Offers to draw.) 

All Hold ! hold ! 

Moody. If Harcourt would but kill Sparkish, 
and run away with my sister, I should be rid oi' 
three plagues at once. {Aside^ l.h.) 

AH. Indeed, to tell the truth, the gentleman 
said, after all, that what he spoke was but out 
of friendship to you. 

Spark. How ! say I am a fool, that is no wit, 
out dif friendship to me ? 

All Yes, to try whether 1 was concerned 
enough for you ; and made love to me only to 
be satisfied of my virtue, for your sake. 

Har. Kind, however ! (Aside.) 

Spark, Nay, if it were so, my dear rogue, I 
ask thee pardon ; but why would not you tell me 
so, 'faith ? 

Har. Because I did not think on't, 'faith. 

Spark. Come, Belville is gone away : Har- 
court, let's be gone to the new play; come, 
madam. (Crosses to l.h.) 

AH. I will not go, if you intend to leave me 
alone in the box, and run all about the house, 
as you used to do. 

Spark. Pshaw ! I'll leave Harcourt with you 
in the box, to entertain you, and that's as good. 
If I sat in the box, I should be thought no critic. 
i must run about, my dear, and abuse the author. 



36 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Come, away, Karcourt, lead her down. B'ye, 
brother. 

[Exeunt Harcourt^ Sparkish^ and Alithea^ l.h. 
Moody. B'ye, driveller. Well, go thy ways, 
for the flower of the true town fops ; such as 
spend their estates before they come to 'em, 
and are cuckolds before they're married. But 
let me go look to my freehold. 

Enter a Countryman^ l.h. 

Country. Master, your worship's servant. Here 
is the lawyer, counsellor gentleman, with a green 
bag full of papers, come again, and would be 
glad to speak to you. 

Moody. Now here's some other damn'd impe- 
diment, which the law has thrown in our way, 
1 shall never marry the girl, nor get clear of the 
smoke and wickedness of this cursed town. 
(^Aside.) Where is he ? 

Country. He's below in a coach, with three 
other lawyers, counsellor gentlemen. 

[Exeunt^ l.h. 

SCENE n.— Mother Chamber. 
Enter Peggy and Lucy, r.h. 

Lucy. What ails you, miss Peggy ? You are 
grown quite melancholy. 

Peggy. Would it not make any one melan- 
choly to see your mistress Alithea go e\ery 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 37 

day fluttering about abroad to plays and assem- 
blies, and I know not what, whilst I must stay at 
home, like a poor, lonely, sullen bird in a cage? 
Lucy. Dear miss Peggy, I thought you chose 
to be confined : I imagined that you had been 
bred so young to the cage, that you had no 
pleasure in tlying about, and hopping in the 
open air, as other young ladies, who go a little 
wild about this town. 

Peggy. Nay, I confess I was quiet enough, till 
somebody told me what pure lives the London 
ladies lead, with their dancing meetmgs, and 
junketings, and dress'd every day in their best 
gowns ; and I warrant you play at nine-pins every 
day in the week, so they do. 

Lucy. To be sure, miss, you will lead a better 
life when joind in holy wedlock with your 
sweet-temperM guardian, the cheerful Mr. Moody. 
Peggy. I can't lead a worse, that's one good 
thing ; but I must make the best of a bad 
market, for I can't marry nobody else. 
Lucy. How so, miss? i'hat's very strange. 
Peggy. Why we have a contraction to one 
another ; so we are as good as married, you 
know. 

Lucy. I know it ! Heaven forbid, miss. 
Peggy. Heigho ! 

Lucy. Don't sigh, miss Peggy ; if that young 
gentleman, who was here just now, would take 
pity on me, Pd throw such a contract as yours 
behind the fire. 

Peggy. Lord bless us, how you talk ! 
4 



38 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Lucy. Young Mr. Belville would make you 
talk otherwise, if you knew him. 

Peggy- Mr. Belville !— Where is he?— When 
did you see him? — Vou have undone me, Lucy; 
where was he ? Did he say any thing ? 

Lucy. Say any thing ! very little indeed ; 
he's quite distracted, poor young creature 1 
He was talking with your guardian just now. 

Peggy. The deuce he was ! — but where was 
it, and when was it ? 

Lucy. In this house, five minutes ago, when 
your guardian turnVl you into your chamber, for 
fear of your being seen. 

Peggy. I knew something was the matter, I 
was in such a fluster. But what did he say to 
my bud ? 

Lucy. What do you call him bud for? Bud 
means husband, and he is not your husband yet, 
and I hope never will be ; and if he was my 
husband I'd bud him, a surly, unreasonable 
beast. 

Peggy. I'd call him any names, to keep him in 
good humour ; if he'd let me marry any body 
else (which I can't do,) I'd call him husband as 
long as he lived. — But what said Mr. Belville 
to him ? 

Lucy. I don't know what he said to him, but 
I'll tell you what he said to me, with a sigh, and 
his hand upon his breast, as he went out of the 
door — " If you ever were in love, young gen- 
tlewoman (meaning me), and can pity a most 
faithful lover, tell the dear object of my affec- 
tions " 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 39 

Peggy. Meaning me, Lucy ? 

Lucy. Yes, you, to be sure. " Tell the dear 
object of my affections, I live but upon the 
hopes that she is not married ; and when those 
hopes leave me, she knows the rest;'' then he 
cast up his eyes, thus — gnash'd his teeth— struck 
his forehead — would have spoke again, but he 
could not — fetch'd a deep sigh, and vanished. 

Peggy. 'I hat is really very fine; 1 am sure it 
makes my heart sink within me, and brings tears 
into my eyes ! O, he's a charming sweet — But 
hush, hush, 1 hear my husband. 

Lucy. Don't call him husband. Go into the 
Park this evening, if you can. 

Peggy. Mum, mum. 

Enter Moody, l.it. 

Moody. Come, what's here to do ; you are 
putting the town pleasures in her head, and set- 
ting her a longing. 

Lucy. Yes, after nine-pins ; you suffer none to 
give her those longings but yourself. 

Moody. Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts 
are lost when bad examples are still before us: 
the liberty your mistress takes abroad makes 
her hanker after it, and out of humour at home. 
Poor wretch ! she desired not to come to Lon- 
don ; I would bring her. 

Lucy. O yes, you surfeit her with pleasures. 

Moody. She has been this fortnight in town, 
and never desired, till this afternoon, to go 
abroad. 



40 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Iaicij. Was she not at the play yesterday ? 
Moody. Yes, but she never ask'd me ; 1 was 
myself the cause of her going. 

Lucy. Then if she ask you again, you are the 
cause of her asking, and not my mistress. 

Moody. Well, next week I shall be rid of you 
all, rid of this town, and my dreadful apprehen- 
sions. Come, be not meinncholy, for thou shalt 
go into the country very soon, dearest. 

Peggy. Pish ! what d'ye tell me of the coun- 
try for ? 

Moody. How's this ? What, flout at the coun- 
try? 

Peggy. Let me alone, I am not well. 

Moody. O, if that be all — what ails my dear- 
est ? 

Peggy. Truly I don't know ; but I have not 
been well since you told me there was a gallant 
at the play in love with me. 

Moody. Ha ! 

Lucy. That's my mistress too. 

Moody. Nay, if you are not well, but are so 
concerned because a raking fellow chanced to 
lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick 
too. 

Peggy. Of what sickness ? 

Moody. O, of that which is worse than the 
plague ; jealousy ! 

Peggy. Pish ! you jeer : I'm sure there's no 
such disease in your receipt-book at home. 

Moody. No, you never met with it, poor in- 
nocent. 

P^ggy- Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play 
to-night. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 41 

Moody. No, no ; no more plays. But why 
are you so eager to see a play ? 

Peggy. Faith, dear, not that I care one pin 
for their talk there ; but I like to look upon the 
player-men, and would see, if I could, the gal- 
lant you say loves me ; that's all, dear bud. 

Moody. Is that all, dear bud ? 

Lucy. {Aside.) This proceeds from my mis- 
tress''s exam(3le. 

Peggy. Let's go abroad, however, dear bud, 
if we don t go to the play. 

Moody. Come, have a little patience, and thou 
ahalt go into the country next week. 

Peggy. Therefore 1 would first see some 
sights to tell my neighbours of: nay, I will go 
abroad, that's once. 

Moody. What, you have put this into her 
head? {To Lucy.) 

Lucy. Heaven defend me, what suspicions ! 
somebody has put more things into your head 
than you ought to have. 

Moody. Your tongue runs too glibly, madam ; 
and you have lived too long with a London lady, 
to be a proper companion for innocence. I am 
not over-fond of you, mistress. 

Lucy. There's no love lost between us. 

Moody. You admitted those gentlemen into 
the house, when I said I would not be at home ; 
and there was the young fellow too who be- 
haved so indecent to my wife at the tavern win- 
dow. 

Lucy. Because you would not let him see your 

handsome wife out of your lodgings. 
4* 



42 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. Why, O Lord, did the gentleman come 
hither to see me indeed ? 

Moody. No, no. You are not the cause of 
that damn'd question too ? {To Lucy.) 

Peggy. Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad be- 
fore His late : for I will go, that's fiat and plain 
— only into the Park. 

Moody. So ! the obstinacy already of the town 
wife ; and I must, while she's here, humour her 
like one. — (Aside.) How shall we do, that she 
may not be seen or known ? 

Lucy. Muffle her up with a bonnet and cloak, 
and I'll go with her to avoid suspicion. 

Moody. No, no, I am obliged to you for your 
kindness, but she shan't stir without me. 

Lucy. What will you do then ? 

Peggy. What shall we go ? I am sick with 
staying at home : if I don't walk in the Park, I'll 
do nothing that I'm bid for a week — I won't be 
mop'd. 

Lticy. O she has a charming spirit ! I could 
stand your friend now, and would, if you had 
ever a civil word to give me. {To Moody.) 

Moody. I'll give thee a better thing, I'll give 
thee a guinea for thy good advice, if I like it ; 
and I can have the best of the college for the 
same money. 

Lucy. I despise a bribe : when I am your 
friend, it shall be without fee or reward. 

Peggy. Don't be long then, for I will go out. 

Lucy. The tailor brought home last night the 
clothes you intend for a present to your godson 
in the country. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 43. 

Peggy. You must not tell that, Lucy. 

Lucy. But I will, madam. When you were 
with your lawyers last night, miss Peg-gy, to di- 
vert me and herself, put 'em on, and they fitted 
her to a hair. 

Moody. 1'hank you, thank you, Lucy, 'tis the 
luckiest thought ! Go this moment, Peggy, into 
your chamber, and put 'em on again — and you 
shall walk with me into the Park, as my godson. 
Well thought of, Lucy ; 1 shall love you for ev- 
er for this. 

Peggy. And so shall I too, Lucy : I'll put 'em 
on directly. (^Going.) 1 suppose, bud, I must 
keep on my petticoats for fear of showing my 
legs? 

Moody. No, no, you fool, never mind your 
legs. [Exeunt Peggy ^ r.h.d. Moody, l.h. 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I.— TAe Park. 

Enter Belville and Harcourt, r.h. 

Bel. And the moment Moody left me, I took 
an opportunity of conveying some tender senti- 
ments through Lucy to miss Peggy ; and here I 



44 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

am, in expectation of seeing my country god- 
dess. 

Har. And so to blind Moody, and take him off 
the scent of your passion lor this girl, and at the 
same time to give me an opportunity with Spar- 
kish s mistress (and of vvh.ch 1 h^ve made the 
most), you halted to him with a grave melan- 
choly face that you were dying for his sister — 
Gad-amercy, nephew ! 1 will back thy modesty 
against any other in the three kingdoms : it will 
do, Uick. 

Bel. What could I do, uncle ? — It was my last 
stake, and I play'd for a great deal. 

Har You mistake me, Dick : I don't say you 
could do better, 1 only can't account for your 
modesty's doing so much : you have done such 
wonders, that I, who am rather bold than sheep- 
ish, have not yet ceased wondering at you But 
do you think that you imposed upon him? 

Bel. Faith, I can't say ; he said very little, 
grumbled much, shook his head, and showed me 
the door. — But what success have you had with 
Alithea ? 

Har. Just enough to have a glimmering of 
hope, without having light enough to see an inch 
before my nose. — This day will produce some- 
thing : Alithea is a woman of great honour, and 
will sacrifice her happiness to it, unless Spark- 
ish s absurdity stands my friend, and does every 
thing that the fates ought to do for me. 

Bel. Yonder comes the prince of coxcombs, 
and if your mistress and mine should, by chance, 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 45 

be tripping this way, this fellow will spoil sport : 
let us avoid him— you can't cheat him before his 
face. 

Har. But I can though, thanks to my wit, and 
his want of it. 

Bel. But you cannot come near his mistress 
but in his company. 

Har. Still the better for me, nephew, for 
fools are most easily cheated, when they them- 
selves are accessaries ; and he is to be bubbled 
of his mistress, or of his money (the common 
mistress), by keeping him company. 

Enter Sparkish, r.h. 

Spark. Who's that that is to be bubbled? 
Faith, let me snack ; I han t met with a bubble 
since Christmas. 'Gad, I think bubbles Uke 
their brother woodcocks, go out with the cold 
weather. 

Har. He did not hear all, I hope. 

(Apart to Bel.) 

Spark. (Crosses to centre.) Come you bubbling 
rogues, you, where do we sup ? O Harcourt, 
my mistress tells me you have made love, fierce 
love to her last night, all the play long; ha, ha, 
ha !— but I 

Har. I make love to her ? 

Spark. Nay, I forgive thee, and I know her; 
but I am sure I know myself 

Bel. Do you, sir ? Then you are the wisest 
man in the world, and 1 honour you as such. 

(Bows.) 

Spark. O, your servant^ sir : you are at your 



46 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

raillery, are you ! You can't oblige me more ; 
I'm your man : he'll meet with his match. Ha t 
Harcourt ! did not you hear me laugh prodi- 
giously at the play last night ? 

Har, Yes, and was very much disturb'd at it. 
You put the actors and audience into confusion, 
and all your friends out of countenance. 

Spark. So much the better: I love confusion, 
and to see folks out of countenance ; I was in tip- 
top spirits, faith, and sjiid a thousand good things. 

Bel. But I thought you had gone to plays to 
laugh at the poet's good things, and not at your 
own. 

Spark. Your servant, sir; no, I thank you. 
'Gad I go to a play as to a country treat : I carry 
my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other, 
or else I'm sure 1 should not be merry at either; 
and the reason why we are so often louder than 
the players is, because we hate authors damna- 
bly. 

Bel. But why should you hate the poor 
rogues? You have too much wit, and despise 
writing, I'm sure. 

Spark. O yes, I despise writing ; but women, 
women, that make men do all foolish things, 
make 'em write songs too. Every body does it ; 
'tis e'en as common with lovers, as playing with 
fans : and you can no more help rhymmgtoyour 
Phillis, than drinking lo your Fhillis. 

Har. But the poets damn'd your songs, did 
they ? 

Spark. Damn the poets : they turn'd them in- 
to burlesque as they call it : that burlesque is a 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 47 

hocus-pocus trick they have got, which, hy the 
virtue of hiccius-doccius, topsy-turvy, they make 
a clever witty thing absolute nonsense ! Do you 
know, Harcourt, that they ridiculed my last 
song? " Twang, twang," the best I ever wrote. 

Har. That may be, and be very easily ridi- 
culed for all that. 

Bel Favour me with it, sir; 1 never heard it. 

Spark. What, and have all the Park about us? 

Har. Which you'll not dislike ; and so, pr'ythee, 
begin. 

Spark. I never am ask'd twice, and so have 
at you. 



Tell me not of the roses and lilies 

Which tinge the fair cheek of your Philis ; 

Tell me not of the dimples and eyes^ 

For which silly Corydon dies. 
Let all whining lovers go hang ; 

My heart would you hit, 

Tip your arrow with wit, 
Jind it comes t> my heart with a twang, twang, 
And it comes to my heart with a twang. 

(^At the end of the Song Harcourt and Belville 
steal away l.h.v.e. from Sparkish, and leave him 
singing ; he sinks his Voice by degrees at the 
surprise of their being gone. 

Re-enter Harcourt and Belville, l.h.u.e. 
What the deuce did you go away for ? 



48 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Har. Your mistress is coming. 

Spark. The devil she is! O hide, hide me 
from her. {^Hides behind Har court.) 

Har. She sees you. 

Spark. But I will not see her ; for Pm en- 
gaged, and at this instant. {Looking at his Watch) 

Har. Fray first take me, and reconcile me to 
her. 

Spark. Another time ; faith, it is the Uidy, and 
one cannot make excuses to a woman. 

Bel. You have need of 'em I beheve. 

Spark. Pshaw, pr'ythee hide me. 

Enter Moody, Peggy, in Boy's Clothes^ and 



Har. Your servant, Mr. Moody. 

Moody. Come along. {To Peggy.) 

Peggy. Lau! what a sweet delightful place 
this is ! 

Moody. Come along, T say. don't stare about 
you so ; you'll betray yourself 
[Exit Moody., pulling Peggy., Mithea following^ r.h. 

Har. He does not know us. 

Bel. Or he won't know us. {Crosses to r.h.) 

Spark. So much the better. 

[Exit Belville after them, r.h. 

Har. Who is that pretty youth with him, 
Sparkish ? 

Spark. Some relation of Peggy's, I suppose : 
for he is something like her in face and gaw- 
kiness. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 49 



Re-enter Belville, r.h. 

Bel By all my hopes, uncle, Peggy in boy's 
clothes. 1 am all over agitation. 

[Jlpart to Harcourt.) 

Har. Be quiet, or you'll spoil all. They re- 
turn. — Alithea has seen you, Sparkish, and will 
be angry if you don't go to her : besides, 1 would 
fain be reconciled to her, which none but you 
can do, my dear friend. 

Spark. Well, that's a better reason, dear 
friend : I would not go near her now for her's 
or my own sake ; but I can deny you nothing : 
for though 1 have known thee a great while, 
never go, if I do not love thee as well as a new 
acquaintance. 

Har. I am obliged to you, indeed, my dear 
friend : I would.be well with her, only to be well 
with thee still ; for these ties to wives usually 
dissolve all ties to friends. 

Spark. But they shan't though. Come along. 

{They retire^ l.h.) 

Re-enter Moody, Peggy, and Alithea, r.h. 

Moody. Sister, if you will not go, we must 
leave you. {To Alithea.) The fool, her gallant, 
and she will muster up all the young saunterers 
of this place. What a swarm of cuckolds and 
cuckold-makers are here ! 1 begin to be uneasy. 
{Aside.) Come, let's be gone, Peggy. 
5 



50 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. Don't you believe that ; I han't half 
my belly-full of sights yet. 

Moody. Then walk this way. 

Peggy Lord, what a power of fine folks are 
here. — And Mr. Belville, as I hope to be mar- 
ried. (^Aside ) 

Moody. Come along* ; what are you mutter- 
ing at? 

Peggy. There's the young gentleman there, 
you were so angry about, that's in love with me. 

Aloody. No, no ; he's a dangler after your sis- 
ter, or pretends to be ; but they are all bad alike. 
Come along, I sa}'. 

[Moody pulls Peggy away. Exeunt Peggy and 
Moody, L.H. Belville following. Sparkish^ 
Har court, and Alithea come forward. 

Spark. Come dear madam, for my sake you 
shall be reconciled to him. 

Jli. For your sake I hate him- 

Har. That's something too cruel, madam, to 
hate me for his sake. 

Spark. Ay, indeed, madam, too cruel to me, to 
hate my friend for my sake. 

AH. I hate him because he is your enemy ; and 
you ought to hate him too, for making love to 
me, if you love me. 

Spark. That's a good one ! I hate a man for 
loving you ? If he did love you, 'tis but what he 
can't help ; and 'tis your fault, not his, if he ad- 
mires you. 

AH. Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer a 
man to make love to me, who am to marry you 
to-morrow ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 51 

Har. {Crosses to Centre.) But why, dearest 
madam, will you be more concerned for his 
honour than he is himself? Let his honour alone, 
for ra}' sake and his. He has no honour. 

Spark How's that? 

Bar. But what my dear friend can guard 
him^^eif? 

Spark. O ho — thafs r-ght again. 

Mi. You astonisli me. S:r, with want of jealousy. 

Spark. And you make me giddy, madam, with 
your jealousy and fe:irs, and virtue and honour. 
'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as troublesome 
as a little reading or learning. 

Har. Come, madam, you see you strive in 
Tain to make him jealous of me : my dear friend 
is the kindest creature in the world to me. 

Spark. Poor fellow ! 

Har. But his kindness only is not enough for 
me, without your favour, your good opinion, 
dear madam : 'tis that must perfect my happi- 
ness. Good gentleman, he believes all I say: 
'would you would do so ! — Jealous of me ! I 
would not wrong him nor you for the world. 

Spark. Look you there : hear him, hear him, 
and not walk away so ; come back again. 

{Alitkea walks carelessly to and fro.) 

Har. I love you, madam, so — 

Spark. How's that? Nay, now you begin to 
go too tar indeed. 

Har. So much, I confess I say I love you, that 
I would not have you miserable, and cast your- 
self away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable 
a thing as what vou see here. 



52 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

(^Claps his Hand on his Breast, and points to 
Sparkish.) 

Spark. No, faith, I believe thou wouldst not; 
novv his meaning- is plain ; but I knew before 
thou vvouklst not wrong- me nor her. 

Har. No, no, heavens forbid the glory of her 
sex should fall so low as into the embraces of 
such a contemptible wretch, the least of man- 
kind — my dear friend here — 1 injure him. 

{^Embraces Sparkish.) 

Mi. Very well. 

Spark. No, no, dear friend, 1 knew it : madam, 
you see he will rather wrong himself than me in 
giving himself such names. 

Jlli. Do not you understand him yet? 

Spark. Come, come, you shall stay till he has 
saluted you. 

Re-enter Moody and Peggy, l.h. Belville at a 
distance. 

Moody. What, invite your wife to kiss men ? 
Monstrous ! Are you not ashamed ? 

Spark. Are you not ashamed that X should 
have more confidence in the chastity of your 
family than you have ? You must not teach me : 
1 am a man of honour, sir, though 1 am frank and 
free ; I am frank, sir — 

Moody. Very frank, sir, to share your wife 
with your friends. — You seem to be angry, and 
yet won't go. {To Alithea.) 

AH. No impertinence shall drive me away. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 53 

Moody. Because 3'ou like it. — But you ought 
to blush at exposing your wife as you do. 

{To Sparkish.) 

Spark. What then ? It may be I have a plea- 
sure in't as I have to show fine clothes at a play- 
house the first day, and count money before 
poor rogues 

Moody. He that shows his wife or money, will 
be in danger of having them borrowed some- 
times. 

Spark. I love to be envied, and would not 
marry a wife that I alone could love. Loving 
alone is as dull as eating alone^; and so good 
night, for I must to Whitehall. — Madam, I hope 
you are now reconciled to my friend ; and so I 
wish you a good night, madam, and sleep if you 
can ; for to-morrow, you know, I must visit you 
early with a canonical gentleman Good night, 
dear Harcourt — remember to send your brother. 

[Exit^ I..H. 

Har. You may depend upon me. — Madam, I 
hope you will not refuse my visit to-morrow, if 
it should be earlier, with a canonical gentleman, 
than Mr Sparkish. 

Moody. This gentlewoman is yet under my 
care, therefore you must yet forbear your free- 
dom with her. 

Har. Must, sir ? 

Moody. Yes, sir, she is my sister. 

Har. 'Tis well she is, sir; for I must be her 
servant, sir. — Madam — 

Moody. Come away, sister ; we had been gone 
5 * 



54 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

if it had not been for you, and so avoided these 
lewd rakehells, who seem to haunt us. 

Har. I see a little time in the country makes 
a man turn wild and unsociable, and only fit to 
converse with his horses, dogs, and his herds. 

Moody. \ have business, sir, and must mind it: 
your business is pleasure; therefore you and I 
must ^o different ways. 

Har. Well, you may go on ; but this pretty 
young gentleman {Takes hold of Peggy.) shall 
stay with us ; for I suppose his business is the 
same with ours, pleasure. 

Moody. 'Sdeath, he knows her, she carries it 
so sillily; yet if he does not, I should be more 
silly to discover it first. {Aside.) Come, come. 

Har. Had you not rather stay with us? {To 
Peggy.) Pr'ythee who is this pretty young fel- 
low ? {To Moody.) 

Moody. One to whom I am guardian. — 1 wish 
I could keep her out of your hands. (Aside.) 

Har. Who is he? I never saw any thing so 
pretty in all my life. 

Moody. Pshaw, do not look upon him so much ; 
he's a poor, bashful youth ; you'll put him out of 
countenance. {Offers to take her away.) 

Har. Here, nephew, let me introduce this 
young gentleman to your acquaintance. You 
are very like, and of the same age, and should 
know one another. Salute him, Dick, a la 
Francoise. {Behille kisses her.) 

Moody. I hate French fashions. Men kiss one 
another. {Endeavours to take hold of her.) 

Peggy. I am out of my Wits. {Aside.) What do 
you kiss me for ? 1 am no woman. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 55 

Har. But you are ten times handsomer. 
Pesrgy. Nay, now you jeer one ; and pray 
^on''t jeer rne. 

Har, Kiss him again, Dick. 

Moody. No, no, no ; — come away, come away. 

{To i'egiry.) 

Har. Why, what histe you are in! Why won't 
you let me taik wilh him ? 

Moody. Because you'll dehauch him ; he's yet 
young and innocent. — How she gnzes upon him ! 
The devil! (Aside.) Come, pray let him go; I 
cannot stay fooling any longer: I tell you my 
wife stays supper for us. 

Har. Does she ? Come then, we'll all go sup 
with her. 

Moody. No, no; now I think on't, having staid 
so long for us, 1 warrant she's gone to bed. — I 
wish she and I were well out of your hands. 

{Aside.) 

Har. Well then, if she be gone to bed, 1 wish 
her and you a good night. But pray, young 
gentleman, present my humble service to her. 

Peggy Thank you hCfH-tily, sir. 

Moody. 'Sdeath, she will discover herself yet 
in spite of me. {Aside.) 

Bel. And mine too, sir. 

Peggy. That I will indeed. {Bore}s.) 

Har. Pray give her this kiss for me. 

(Kisses Peggy. 

Moody. heavens ! What do T sufter? {Aside.) 

Bel. And this for me. {Kisses Peggy. 

Peggy, 'i hank you, sir. 

[Courtesies. Belville and Harcourt laugh., and 
Exeunt^ l.h. 



56 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Moody. O the idiot! — Now 'tis out. Ten 
thousand cankers gnaw away their hps ! (^Aside ) 
Come, come, driveller. {^Moody^ P^^gh ^^^ 
Alithea go out and return^ l.h.) So ihey are gone 
at last. — Sister, stay with Feg'g-y, till I hnd my 
servant. Don't let her stir an inch : I'll be back 
directly. {Exit.,L.H.) 

Re-enter Harcourt and Belville, l.h. 

Har. What, not gone yet ? — Nephew, show 
the young gentleman Rosamond's pond, while I 
speak another word to this lady. 

[^Exeunt Belville and Peggy^ l h. Alithea 
and Harcourt struggle. 
Ali. My Brother will go distracted. 

Re-enter Moody, r.h. 

Moody. Where? how? — What's become of — 
gone ! — whither ? 

Ali. In the next walk only, brother. 

Moody. Only — only — where — where ? 

[Exit hastily.) l.h.s.e. 

Har. What's the matter with him ? Why so 
much concerned ? — But, dearest madam — 

Re-enter Moody, l.h. s.e. 

Moody. Gone, gone — not to be found — quite 
gone — ten thousand plagues go with 'em !— 
Which way went they ? 

Ali. But in t'other walk, brother. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 57 

Moody. T'other walk ! t'other devil. Where 
are they, I say ? 

Jili. You are too abusive, brother. 

Moody. You know where they are, you infa- 
mous wretch, eternal shame of your famil}' ; 
which you do not dishonour enough yourself, 
you think, but you must help her to do it too, 
thou legion of" — 

AH. Good brother — 

Moody. Damn'd, damn'd sister ! [Exeunt, r.h. 

SCENE UL— Another part of the Park. 

Enter Belville and Peggy, r.h. 

Bel. No disguise could conceal you from my 
heart : 1 pretended not to know you, that I 
might deceive the dragon that continually 
watches over you ; but novv he's asleep, let us 
fly from misery to happiness. 

Peggy. Indeed, Mr. Belville, as well as I like 
you, I can't think of going away with you so ; 
and as much as I hale my guardian, I must take 
leave of him a little handsomely, or he will kill 
me, so he will. 

Bel. But, dear miss Peggy, think of your 
situation ; if we don't make the best use of this 
opportunity, we never may have another. 

Peggy. Ay but, Mr. Belville, I am as good as 
married already ; my guardian has contracted 
me, and there wants nothing but the church 
ceremony to make us one : I call him husband, 
aed he calls me wife already : he made me do 



58 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

so : and we had been married in church long' 
ago, if the writings could have been finished. 

Bel. i hat's his deceit, my sweet creature. — 
He pretends to have married you, for fear of 
your liking any body else — Vou have a right to 
choose for yourself; and there is no law in 
heaven or earth that binds you before marriage 
to a man you cannot hke. 

Peggy- i'fack, no more I believe it does: sis- 
ter Aiithea's maid has told aie as much. She's 
a very sensible girl. 

Bel. You are in the very jaws of perdition, 
and nothing but running away can avoid it; the 
law will finish your chains to-morrow, and the 
church will rivet them the day after. Let us 
secure our happiness by escape, and love and 
fortune will do the rest for us. 

Peggy. These are fine sayings, to be sure, 
Mr. Belvilie ; but how shall we get my fortune 
out of bud's clutches? We must be a little cun- 
ning; His worth trying for. We can at any time 
run away without it. 

Bel. I see by your fears, my dear Peggy, that 
you live in awe of this brutrd guardian; and if 
he has you once more in his possession, both 
you and your fortune are secured to him for 
ever 

Peggy. Ay, but it shan't though ; 1 thank him 
for that. 

Bel. If you marry without his consent, he can 
but seize upon half your fortune. — The other 
half, and a younger brother's fortune, with a 
treasure of love, are your own. — Take it, my 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 5^ 

sweetest Peggy, and this moment, cr we shall 
be divided for ever. 

{Kneels^ and presses her hand.) 

Peggy. I'fackins, but we won't. — Your fine 
talk has bewitched me. 

Bel. (^Rising. )'*T IS you have bewitch'd me, 
thou dear, enchanting, sweet simpLcily ! — Let 
us fly with the wings of love to my house there, 
and we shall be safe for ever. 

Peggy. And so we will then. — There, squeeze 
my hand again. — Now run away with me ; and 
if myguardy follows us, the devil take the hind- 
most, 1 say. {Goings l.h.) 

FsUter Moody, l.h. hastily^ and meets them. 

Moody. O ! there's my stray'd sheep, and the 
wolf again in sheep's clothing! — Now I have 
recovered her, I shall come to my senses again. 
(^Aside.) Where have you been, you puppy? 

Peggy. Been bud? — We have been hunting 
all over the Park to find you. 

Bel. From one end to t other, sir. {Confusedly.) 

Moody. But not where I was to he found, you 
young devil you ! — Why did you start when you 
saw me ? 

Peggy. I'm always frighten'd when I see you ; 
and if I did not love you so well, I should run 
away from you ; so 1 should. {Pouts.) 

Moody. But I'll tiike care you don't. 

Peggy. This gentleman has a favour to beg of 
you, bud ? {Belville makes signs of Dislike.) 

Moody. I am not in a humour to grant favours 
to young gentlemen, though you mny. What 



60 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

have you been doing with this young lady — 
gentleman, I would say ? 

Peggy. Fie, bud, you have told all. 

Bel. I have been as civil as 1 could to 'the 
young stranger; and if youMl permit me, I will 
take the trouble off your hands, and show the 
young spark Rosamond^s pond ; for he has not 
seen it yet — Come pretty youth, will you go 
with me? {Goes to her.) 

Peggy. As my guardian pleases. 

Moody. No, no, it does not please me. What- 
ever 1 think he ought to see, I shall show him 
myself. You may visit Rosamond's pond, if you 
will ; and the bottom of it, if you will. — And so, 
sir, your servant. 

[Exit Moody ^ 'with Peggy under his arm, 
L.H. Belville^ r.h. 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I.— Moody's House. 
Enter Lucy and Alithea, r.h. 

All. Hold your peace. 

Lucy. Nay, madam, I will ask you the reason 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 61 

why you would banish poor Mr. Harcourt for 
ever from your sight ? How could you be so 
hard-hearted. 

AIL 'Twas because I was not hard-hearted. 

Lucy. No, no ; 'twas stark love and madness, 
I warrant. 

AH. It was so ; I would see him no more, be- 
cause 1 love him. 

Lucy. Hey-day ! a very pretty reason. 

Ali. You do not understand me. 

Lucy. I wish you may yourself. 

AH. I was engaged to marry, you see, ano- 
ther man, whom my justice will not suffer me 
to deceive or injure. 

Lucy. Can there be a greater cheat or wrong 
done to a man, than to give him your person 
without your heart ? 1 should make a con- 
science of it. 

AH. Hold your tongue. 

Lucy. That you know I can't do, madam ; and 
upon this occasion, f will talk for ever. What, 
give yourself away to one, that poor I, your 
maid, would not accept of 

AH. How, Lucy ? 

Lucy. I would not, upon my honour, madam. 
'Tis never too late to repent. Take a man, 
and give up your coxcomb, I say. 

Enter a Servant^ l.h. 

Serv. Mr. Sparkish, with company, madam, 
attends you below. 

AH. I will wait upon 'em. [Exit ServanU l.h.] 
6 



62 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

My heart begins to fail me, but I must go 
through with it. — Go with me, Lucy. [Exit^ l.h. 
Lucij. Not I indeed, madam. — If you will leap 
the precipice, you shall fall by yourself What 
excellent advice have I thrown away ! — So I'll 
e'en take it where it will be more welcome. 
-Miss Peggy is bent upon mischief against 



her guardian, and she can't have a better privy- 
counsellor than myself. — 1 must be busy one 
way or another. [Exit, l.h. 

SCENE II. — Another Chamber in Moody's House. 

Enter Moody and Peggy, l.h. 

Moody. 1 saw him kiss your hand before you 

saw me. This pretence of liking my sister 

was all a blind — the young abandon'd hypocrite ! 
{^Aside.) Tell me, I say — for I know he likes 
you, and was hurrying you to his house — tell 
me, I say 

Peggy. Lord, han't 1 told it a hundred times 
over? 

Moody. I would try if, in the repetition of the 
ungrateful tale, 1 could lind her altering it in 
the least circumstance ; for if her story is false, 

she is so too. [Aside,) Come, how was't, 

baggage ? 

Peggy. Lord, what pleasure you take to hear 
it sure ! 

Moody. No, you take more in telling it, I 
find : but speak, how was't ? No lies : I saw 
him kiss you ; he kiss'd you before my face. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 63 

Peggy. Nay, you need not be so angry with 
hiui neither ; for, to say the truth, he has the 
sweetest breath I ever knew. 

Moody. The devil ! — You were satisfied with 
it then, and would do it again ? 

Peggy. Not unless he should force me. 

M(ody. Force you, channeling? 

Peggy. If I had struggled too much, you 
know, he would have known 1 had been a wo- 
man ; so I was quiet, for fear of being found out. 

Moody. If you had been in petticoats, you 
would have knockM him down ! 

Peggy. With what, bud? 1 could not help 

myself; besides, he did it so modestly, and 
blush'd so, that I almost thought him a girl in 
men's clothes, and upon his mummery too as 
well as me ; and if so, there was no harm done, 
you know. 

Moody. This is worse and worse. So 'tis 
plain she loves him, yet she has not love enough 
to make her conceal it from me ; but the sight 
of him will increase her aversion for me, and 
love for him ; and that love instruct her how to 
deceive me, and satisfy him, all idiot as she 
is. Love 'twas he gave women first their craft, 
their art of deluding. 1 must strangle that little 
monster whilst I can deal with him. — (^Aside.) 
Go, fetch pen, ink, and paper, out of the next 
room. 

Peggy. Yes, I will, bud. 

Moody. Go then. 

Peggy. I'm going. 

Moody. Why don't you go then ? 



64 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. Lord, I'm going. [Exit, r.h. 

Moody. This young fellow loves her, and she 

loves him ; the rest is all hypocrisy. How 

the young modest villain endeavoured to de- 
ceive me! But I'll crush this mischief in the 
shell. — Why should women have more inven- 
tion in love than men? It can only be because 
they have more desire, more soliciting passions, 
more of the devil. 

Re-enter Peggy, xmth Pen, Ink and Paper, r.h. 

Come, minx, sit down and write. 

Peggy. Ay, dear, dear bud ; but I can't do't 
very well. 

Moody. I wish you could not at all. 

Peggy. But what should I write for ? 

Moody. I'll have you write a letter to this 
young man. 

^^ggy- O Lord, to the young gentleman a 
letter.^— 

Moody. Yes, to the young gentleman. 

Peggy. Lord you do but jeer : sure you jest. 

Moody. I am not so merry. Come, sit down, 
and write as I bid you. 

Peggy. What, do you think I am a fool ? 

M'jody. She's afraid I would not dictate my 
love to him, therefore she's unwilling. {Aside.) 
But you had best begin. 

Peggy. Indeed and indeed but 1 won't, so I 
won't. 

Moody. Why ? 

Peggy Because he's in town. You may send 
for him here, if you will. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 65 

Moody. Very well, you would have him 
hrought lo you ? Is it come to this ? I say take 
the pen and ink, and write, oryouMl provoke me. 

Peggy. Lord, what do you make a fool of me 
for ' — DonH I know that letters are never writ 
but trom the country to London, and from Lon- 
don into the country ? Now he's in town, and 
I'm in tovvn too ; therefore 1 can't write to him, 
you know. 

Moody So, I'm glad it's no worse ; she is in- 
nocent enough yet. [Aside.) Yes, you may, 
when your husband bids, write letters to people, 
that are in tovvn. 

Peggy. O, may I so ? Then I am satisfied. 

Moody. Come, begin Sir [Dictates.') 

Peggy Shan't 1 say dear, sir ? You know 
one says always something more than, bare, sir, 
up in a corner. 

Moody. Write as I bid you, or I will write 
something with this pen-knife in your face. 

Peggy. Sir [Writes.) 

Moody. Though I suffered last night your nause- 
ous^ loathed kisses and embraces Write ! 

Peggy. Nay, why should I say so ? you know 
I told you he had a sweet breath. 

Moody. Write ! 

Peggy. Let me put out loathed. 

Moody. Write, I say ! 

Peggy. Well then. ( Writes.) 

Moody Let me see what you have writ. 
[Reads.) Though I suffered last night your kisses 

and embraces Thou impudent creature, where 

is nauseous and loath'^d ? 
6* 



66 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. I can't abide to write such filthy words. 

Moody. Once more write as Pd have ycu, or I 
■will spoil your writing- with this ; I will stab out 
those eyes that cause my mischief. 

[Holds up the Pen-knife.') 

Peggy. O Lord, I will. ( Writes.) 

Moody. So — so -let's see now: —though I 

suffered last night your nauseous loathed kisses and 

embraces go on yet I would not have you 

presume that you shall ever repeat them so 

{Peggy writes.) 

Peggy. I have writ it. 

Moody. O then 1 then conceaPd myself from 

your knowledge^ to avoid your insolencies 

{Peggy writes.) 

Peagy. To avoid 

Moody Your insolencies 

Peggy. Your insolencies. ( Writes.) 

Moody. The same reason, now I am out of your 
hands — 

Peggy. So {Writes.) 

Moody. Makes me own to you my unfortunate — 
though innocent frolic, in being in boys clothes. 

leggy. So {^^S§y '^'''it^s.) 

Moody. That you may for evermore 

Peggy. Evermore ? 

Moody. Evermore cease to pursue her who hates 
and detests you {Peggy writes.) 

Peggy. So — . (Sighs.) 

Moody. What do you sigh for detests you 

- — as much as she loves her husband and her honour — 

Peggy. I vow, husband, he'll ne'er believe I 
should write such a letter, {Writes.) 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 67 

Moody. What, he'd expect a kinder one from 
3'ou ■ Come, now yonr name only. 

Peggy. 'Vhat, shan't I ?ay — your most faithful 
humhle servant till death ^ 

Moody. No tormenting fiend. {Peggy writes.) 
— Her style, 1 find, wojlri be very soft. (Aside.) 
Come, wrap it up now, whilst I go fetch w^ax 
and a candle, and write on the outside. — For Mr. 
Belville. [Exit, l.h. 

Peggy. (Writes.) For Mr. Belville. — So — I 
am glad he is gone- — > Hark, 1 hear a noise. 

Moody. (Within.) Well, well, but can't you 
call again Well, walk in then. 

Peggy. (Goes to l.h.d.) I'fack there's folks 
with him 

Moody. ( Within.) Very well — if he must see 
me, I'll come to him. 

Peggy. That's pure ; now I may think a lit- 
tle Why should I send dear Mr. Belville 

such a letter? — Can one have no shift? Ah, 
a London woman would have had a hundred 
presently. — Stay — what if 1 should write a letter, 
and wrap it up like this, and write upon it too ? 

Ay, but then my guardian would see't 

I don't know what to do But yet y'vads, I'll 

try, so 1 will — for I will not send this letter to 
g^oor Mr Belville, come what will on't. (Writes., 
and repeats 'what she writes.) — Dear., dear., dear., 
sweet Mr. Belville — so — My guardian would have 
me send you a base, rude letter, hut I won'^t — so — 
and would have me say I hate you — but I won'^l 

there for Pm sure if you and I were in 

the country at cards together — so — / could not help 
treading on your toe under the table so pray 



68 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

keep at home^for 1 shall be with you as soon as I 
can — so no more at present from one who am^ dear, 
dear, poor dear Mr. Belville, your loving friend 

till death do us part, Margaret Thrfft So 

■ now wrap it up just like t'other — so — now 

write — For Mr. Belville. But, oh! what 

shall 1 do with it ? for here comes my guardian. 
{Puts it in her Bosom.) 

Re-enter Moody, l.h. with a Candle and Sealing' 

wax. 

Aloodij. I have been detained by a sparkisli 
coxcomb, who pretended to visit me ; but I fear 
'twas to my wife. (Aside.) What, have you done ? 

Peggy. Ay, ay, bud, just now. 

Moody. Let's see't ; what d'ye tremble for?— 
[He opens and reads the first Letter.) 

Peggy. So, I had been finely serv'd if 1 had 
giv"n him this. {Aside.) 

Moody. Come, where's the wax and seal ? 

Peggy. Lord, what shall I do ? (Aside.) Pray 
let me see't. Lord, you think 1 cannot seal a 
letter ; I will do't, so I will. 

{Snatches the Letter from him, changes it for the 
other, seals it, and delivers it to him. 

Moody. Nay, I believe you will learn that and 
other things too, which I would not have you. 

Peggy. So, han't I done it curiously ? I think 
I have — there's my letter going to Mr. Belville, 
since he'll needs have me send letters to folks. 

{Aside.) 

Moody. 'Tis very well ; but I warrant you 
would not have it go now ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 69 

Peggy. Yes, indeed, but I would, bud, now. 

Moody. Well, you are a good girl tben. 
Come, let me lock yon up in your chamber till 
I come back : juk! be sure you come not within 
three strides of the wndow when 1 am gone, for 
I have a spy m the street. [Fvis her into the 
Chamber^ r.h.d.) At least 'tis fit she thinks so ; 
if we do not cheat women, they'll cheat us. — 
Now 1 have seen r^d all within, Til deal with 
the foe without, with false intelligence, 

[Exit, L.u. 

SCENE. UL—Belvilleh Lodgings. 
Enter Lucy and Belville, r.h. 

Lucy. I run great risks to be sure, to serve 
the young lady and you, sir ; but 1 know you 
are a gentleman of honour, and would scorn to 
betray a friend who means you well, and is 
above being mercenary. 

Bel. As you are not mercenar}', Mrs. Lucy, I 
ought to be the more generous ; give me leave 
to present you with this trifle ; (Gives her a 
Ring.) not as a reward for your services, but as 
a small token of friendship. 

Lucy. Though I scorn to be bribed in any 
cause, yet I am proud to accept it as a mark of 
your regard, and as such shall keep it for your 
sake — and now to business. 

Bel. But has the dear creature resolved ? 

Lucy. Has she- why she will run away and 
marry you, in spite of your teeth, the first ino- 



70 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

ment she can break prison : so you, in your 
turn must take care not to have your qualms ; 
1 have known several bold gentlemen not able 
to draw their swords, when a challenge has 
come too quick upon 'em. 

Bel. I assure you, Mrs. Lucy, that 1 am no 
bully in love ; and Miss Peggy will meet with 
her match, come when she will. 

Lucy. Ay, so you all say : but talking does no 
business. Stay at home till you hear from us. 

Bel. Blessings on thee, Lucy, for the thought. 

Moody. [Without.) l.h.) But I must and will 
see him, let him have what company he will. 

Lucy. As I hope to be married, Mr. Belville, 
I hear Mr. Moody's voice. Where shall I hide 
myself? — If he sees me, we are all undone. 

Bel. This is our cursed luck again. What 
the devil can he want here ? Get into this 
closet till he is gone. {Puts Lucy into the closet.) 
Don't you stir, Lucy. I must put the best face 
upon the matter. Now for it. 

{Takes a book and reads.) 

Filter Moody, l.h. 

Moody. You will excuse me, sir, for breaking 
through forms and your servant s entreaties, to 
have the honour — but you are alone, sir — your 
fellow told me below, that you were with com- 
pany. 

Bel. Yes, sir, the best company. {Shows his 
book.) When 1 converse with my betters, I 
choose to have 'em alone. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 71 

Moody. And I chose to interrupt your conver- 
sation ! the business of my errand must plead my 
excuse. 

Bel. You shall be always welcome to me ; 
but you seem ruffled, sir. What brings you 
hither, and so seemingly out of humour ? 

Moody. Your impertinency — 1 beg pardon — 
your modesty I mean. 

Bel. My impertinency ! 

Moody. Your impertinency ! 

Bel. Sir, from the pecuHarity of your char- 
acter, and your intimacy with my uncle, 1 shall 
allow you great privileges ; but you must con- 
sider youth has its privileges too ; and as I have 
not the honour of your acquaintance, 1 am not 
obliged to bear with your ill humours, or your 
ill manners. 

Moody. They who wrong me, young man, 
must bear with both ; and if you had not made 
too free with me, I should have taken no Uber- 
ties with you. 

Bel. I could have wished, sir, to have found 
you a little more civil, the first time I have the 
honour of a visit from you. 

Moody. If that is all you want, young gentle- 
man, you will find me very civil indeed? There, 
sir, read that, and let your modesty declare 
whether, 1 want either kindness or civility. 
Look you there, sir. {Gives him a Utter.) 

Bel What is it? 

Moody. Only a love-letter, sir ; and from my 
wife. 

Bel, How, is it from your wife ? — Hum and 
hum. (Reads.) 



72 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Moody. Even from my wife, sir ; am not I 
wondrous kind and civil to you now too ? But 
you'll not think her so. {Aside.) 

Bel. Ha ! is this a trick of his or hers ? {Aside.) 

Moody. The gentleman's surpris'd 1 find ! What, 
you expected a kmder letter ! 

Bel No faith not I : how could I ? 

Moody Yes, yes. I'm sure you did : a man so 
young and well made as you are, must needs be 
disappointed, if the women declare not their 
passion at the first sight or opportunity. 

Bel. But what should this mean ? It seems he 
knows not what the letter contains. {Aside.) 

Moody. Come, ne'er wonder at it so much. 

Bel. Faith, ! can't help it. 

Moody. Now, I think, 1 have deserv'd your 
infinite friendship and kindness ; and have 
show'd myself sufficiently an obliging kind 
friend and husband ; am I not so, to bring a let- 
ter from my wife to her gallant ? 

Bel. Ay, indeed, you are the most obliging 
kind friend and husband in the world ; ha, ha, 
ha ! Pra}', however, present my humble ser- 
vice to her, and tell her 1 will obey her letter 
to a tittle, and fulfil her desires, be what they 
will, or with what difficulty soever I do't : and 
you shall be no more jealous of me, I warrant 
her and you. 

Moody Well then, fare you well, and play 
with any man's honour but mine ; kiss any man's 
wife but mine, and welcome — so, Mr. Modesty, 
your servant. {Goings l.h.) 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 73 

Enter Sparkish, l.h. meeting him. 

Spark. So brother-in-law thnt was to have 
been, I have follow'd you from home to Bel- 
ville's : I have strange news for you. 

Moody. What, are you wiser than you were 
this morning. 

Spark. Faith, 1 don't know but I am, for I 
have lost your sister, and I shan t eat half an 
ounce the less at dinner for it: there's philoso- 
phy for you. 

Moody. Insensibility you mean. I hope you 
don't mean to use my sister ill, sir? 

Spark. No, sir, she has used me ill ; she's in 
her tantrums ; I have had a narrow escape, sir. 

Aloody. If thou art endow'd with the smallest 
portion of understanding, explain this riddle. 

Bel. Ay, ay, pr'ythee, Sparkish, condescend 
to be intelligible. 

Spark. Why you must know— we had settled 
to be married — it is the same thing to me 
whether I am married or not — 1 have no par- 
ticular fancy one way or another, and so I told 
your sister ; off or on, 'tis the same thing to 
me ; but the thing was fix'd, you know — You 
and my aunt brought it about ; • had no hand in 
it. And, to show you that I was as willing to 
marry your sister as any other woman, I suffer- 
ed the law to tie me up to hard terms ; and the 
church would have finish'd me still to harder — ■ 
but she was taken with her tantrums I 

Moody. Damn your tantrums, come to the 
point. 

7 



74 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Spark. Your sister took an aversion to the 
parson, Frank Harcourt's brother — abused me 
like a pick-pocket, and swore 'twas Harcourt 
himself. 

Moody. And so it was, for 1 saw him. 

Spark. Why, you are as mad as your sister : 
I tell you it was Ned, Frank's twin brother. 

Moody. What, Frank told you so? 

Spark. Ay, and Ned too ; they were both in 
a story. 

Moody What an incorrigible fellow ! — Come, 
come, ! must be gone. 

Spark. Nay, nay, you shall hear my story out 

She walk'd up within pistol-shot of the 

church, then twirl'd round upon her heel, calFd 
me every name she could think of; and when 
she had exhausted her imagination, and tired her 
tongue (no easy matter let me tell you), she 
call'd her chair, sent her footman to buy a mon- 
key before my face, then bid me good morrow 
with a sneer, and left us with our mouths open 
in the middle of a hundred people, who were 
all laughing at us ! If these are not tantrums, I 
don't know what are. 

Moody. Ha, ha, ha ! I thank thee, Sparkish, 
from my soul ; 'tis a most exquisite story : I 
have not had such a laugh for this half year. 
Thou art a most ridiculous puppy, and 1 am 
infinitely obliged to thee ; ha, ha, ha ! 

• [Exit, L.H. 

Spark. Did you ever hear the like, Belville? 
Bel. O yes ; how is it possible to hear such a 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 75 

foolish story, and see thy foolish face, and not 
laugh at 'em? Ha, ha, ha I 

[Lucy in the closet laughs^ r.h ) 

Spark. Hey-day ! what's that ? What have 
you raised a devil in the closet to make up a 
laughing chorus at me ? I must take a peep — 
[Going to the Closet.) 

Bel Indeed but you must not. 

Spark. It was a vvom n"'s voice. 

Bel. So much the better for me. 

Spark. Pr'ylhee introduce me. 

Bel. i hough you take a pleasure in expos- 
ing your ladies, I choose to conceal mine ; so, 
my dear Sparkish^ lest the lady should be sick 
by too long a confinement, and laughmg hearti- 
ly at you, I must entreat you to withdraw. 
Prythee excuse me, I must laugh — ha, ha, ha, 
ha ! 

Soark. Do you know that 1 begin to be angry, 
Belville? 

Bel. I can''t help that — ha, ha, ha ! 

Spark. My character s at stake ; 1 shall be 
thought a damn''d silly fellow ; I will call Alithea 
to an account directly. [Exit^ l.h. 

Bel. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Lucy. [i eeping out.) Ha, ha, ha, ha ! O 
dear sir, let me have my la igh out, or I shall 
burst. What an adventure. 

[Comes 07/ f^ and laughs.) 

Bel. My sweet Peggy has sent me the kmdest 
letter — and by the dragon himself; there's a 
spirit for you ! 

Lucy. There's simplicity for you ! Show me 
a town-bred girl with half the g^enius — Send you 



76 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

a love-letter and by a jealous guardian too ! ha, 
ha, ha ! 'lis too much — too much — Ha, ha, ha! 
— Well, A't. Belville ! the world goes as it 
should do — my mistress will exchange her fool 
for a wit ; Miss Peggy her bruie for a pretty 
young fellow : I shall dance at two weddings ; 
be well rewarded by both parties; get a hus- 
band myself: and be as happy as the best of 
you : and so your humble servant. [Exit^ l.h. 
Bel. Success attend you, Lucy. [Exit^ r.h. 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V. 

SCENE I.— Moody's House, 

Peggy, discovered a/o?ie, leaning on her Elbow on a 
Table,, with Pen., Ink, and Paper. 

Peggy. Well, 'tis e'en so : I have got the 
London disease they call love ; i am sick of my 
guardian, and dying for Mr. Belville ! 1 have 
heard this distemper call'd a fever, but methinks 
it IS like an ague ; for when I think of my 
guardian, I tremble and am so cold ; but when 
I think of my gallant, dear Mr Belville, my hot 
fit comes, and 1 am all in a fever indeed. Ah I 
poor Mr. Belville! Well, I will not stay here ; 
therefore Til make an end of my letter to him, 
which shall be a finer letter than my last, be- 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 77 

cause I have studied it like any thing. Oh ! 
sick, sick I 

Enter Moody, m.d. who seeing her writings steals 
softly behind her^ and looking over her Shoulder. 

Moody. What, ('^tiatches the Paper from her.) 
writing more letters ? 

Peggy. O Lord, bud ! why d'ye fright me so ? 

{^She offers to run out ; he stops her., and reads.) 

Moody How's this ! nay, you shnll not stir, 
madam. [Reads.) Dear., dear., Mr. Belville — 
Very well, I have taught 30U to write letters to 
good purpose — but let's see''t — First., I am to 
heg your pardon for my boldness in-mriting to you^ 
which I'd have you to knozv I voould not have done 
had you not said first you loved me so extremely ; 
which if you do., you zvill neter suffer me to be 
another man''s who I loath^ nauseate and detest ; 
— Now you can write these tilthy words. But 
what follows? — therefore I hope you will speedily 
Jind some way to free me from this unfortunate 
match.,which was never I assure you of my choice ; 
hut Vm afraid 'tis already too far gone ; however ^ 
if you love me as I do you., you will try what you 
can do ; you must help me away befre to-morrow^ 
or else., alas ! I shall be for ever out of your 
reach., for I can defer no longer our — our — what 
is to follow our ? — Speak, what ? — Our journey 
into the country, I suppose. — Oh, woman ! 
damn'd woman ! and love damn'd love ! their 
old tempter; for this is one of his miracles; in 
a moment he can make those blind that could 



78 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

see, and those see tiiat were blind ; those dumb 
that could speak, and those prattle who were 
dumb before. — But make an end of your letter, 
and then I'll make an end of you thus, and all 
my plag-ties together. (Draws hs Sword.) 

Peggy- O Lord ! O Lord ! you are such a pas- 
sionate man, bud ! 

M9ody. Come take the pen, and make an end 
of the letter, just as you intended; if you are 
false in a tittle I shall soon perceive it, and 
punish you with this as v ou deserve. {Lays his 
Hand on his Sword.) — write wha! was to ibl- 
low — let's see — You must make haste and help 
me away before to-morrow.^ or else I shall be for- 
ever out of your reach ^ for I can defer no longer 
our — what follows our ? — 

{Peggy takes the Pen., and writes.) 

Peggy. Must all out then, bud ? — Look you 
there then. 

Moody. Let's see — for I can defer no longer our 

wedding Your slighted Alithea. — What's the 

meaning of this ? My sister's name to't? Speak; 
unriddle. 

Peggy. Yes, indeed, bud. 

Moody. But why her name to't ? Speak, — 
speak, I say. 

Peggy. Ay, but you'll tell her again; if you 
would not tell her again — 

Moody. I will not ; 1 am stunn'd ; my head 
turns round. Speak. 

Peggy. Won't you tell her, indeed, and in- 
deed. 

Moody. No : speak, I say. 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 79 

Peggy. She'll be angry with me : but I would 
rather she should be angry with me than you, 
bud And to tell the truth, 'twas she made me 
write the letter, and taught me what I should 
write. 

Moody Ha ! — I thought the style was some- 
what better than her own. {Aside.) Could she 
come to you to teach you, since I lock'd you up 
alone ? 

Peggy. Oh, through the key-hole, bud. 

Moody. But why should she make you write 
a letter for her to him, since she can write her- 
self? 

Peggy. Why she said because — 

Moody. Because what- — because — 

Peggy. Why because, bud — 

Moody. Because what, I say ? 

Pegi(y, Because, lest Mr. Belville, as he was 
so young, should be inconstant, and refuse her ; 
or be vain afterwards, and show the letter, she 
might disown it, the hand not bemg hers 

Moody. Belville again ! — Am I to be deceiv'd 
again with that young hypocrite ? 

Peggy. You have deceiv'd yourself, bud ; you 
have indeed. I have kept the secret for my 
sister's sake, as long as I could — but you must 
know it — and shall know it too. (^Cries.) 

Moody. Dry your tears. 

Peggy. You always thought he was hankering 
after me — Good law ! he's dying for Alithea, and 
Alithea for him ; they have had private meet- 
ings; and he was making love to her before 
yesterday, from the tavern window, when you 



?0 THE COUNTRY GIRL 

thought it was me. I would have discovered 
all, but she made me swear to deceive you; and 
so I have finely ; have not I, bud ? 

Moody. Wliy did you write that foolish letter 
to him then, and make me more foolish to car- 
ry it? 

Peggy. To carry on the joke, bud — to oblige 
them ? 

Moody. And will nothing serve her but that 
great baby ? — He's too young for her (o marry. 

Peggy Why do you mdrry me then ? — 'Tis 
the same th.ng, bud. 

Moody. No, no, 'tis quite different. How in- 
nocent she is ! {Aside.) — But hark you, madam, 
your sister went out this morning, and 1 have 
not seen her within since. 

Peggy. Alack-a-day, she has been crying all 
day above, it seems, in a corner. 

Moody. Where is she ? let me speak with her. 

Peggy. O Lord ! then she'll discover all. 
[Aside.) Pray hold, bud : what, d'ye mean to 
discover me? She'll know I have told you then. 
Pray, bud, let me talk with her first. 

Moody. I must speak witl; her to know whe- 
ther Belville ever made her any promise, and 
whether she will be married to Sparkish or no. 

Peggy. Pray, dear bud, ilon't till I have spoken 
with her, and told her that 1 have told you all; 
for she'll kill me else. 

Moody. Go then, and bid her come to me. 

P^ggy- Yes, yes, bud. 

Moody. Let me see — 

Peggy. I have just got time to know of Lucy, 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 81 

who first set me to work, what lie I shall tell 
next ; for I am e'en at my wits end. 

[Aside^ and Exit^ r.h.d. 
Moody, Well, I resolve it, Belville shall have 
her: I'd rather give him my sister than lend 
him my wife ; and such an alliance will prevent 
his pretensions to my wife, sure ; I'll make him 
of kin to her, and then he won't care for her. 

Re-enter Peggy, r.h.d. 

Peggy. O Lord, bud, I told you what anger 
you would make me with my sister. 

Moody. Wont she come ? 

Peggy. No, she won't, she's ashamed to look 
you in the face ; she'll go directly to Mr. Bel- 
ville, she says. Pray let her have her way, 
hud — she won't be pacified if you don't — and 
will never forgive me. For my part, bud, I be- 
lieve, but don't tell any body, they have broken 
a piece of silver between 'em — or have con- 
tracted one another, as we have done, you 
know, which is the next thing to being married. 

Moody. Pooh ! you fool — she ashamed of talk- 
ing with me about Belville, because I made the 
match for her with Sparkish ! But Sparkish is a 
fool, and I have no objection to Belville's family 
or fortune — tell her so. 

Peggy. I will, bud. {Goings r.h.) 

Moody. Stay, stay, Peggy, let her have her 
own way ; she shall go to Belville herself, and 
I'll follow her — that will be best — let her have 
her whim. 



82 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Peggy. You're in the rig-ht, bud ; for they 
have certainly had a quarrel, by her crying and 
hanging- her head so : I'll be hang'd if her eyes 
anU swell'd out of her head, she's in such a 
piteous taking. 

Moody. Belville shan't use her ill, I'll take 
care of that; if he has made her a promise, he 
shall keep to it: but she had better go tirst — I 
will follow her at a distance, that she may have 
no interruption; and I will wait in the Park be- 
fore I see them, that they may come to a recon- 
ciliation before I come upon 'em. 

Peggy. Law, bud, how wise you are ! — I wish 
I had half your wisdom ; you see every thing at 
once. Stand a one side then — there, a little 
further that way. 

Moody. And so I will : she shan't see me till I 
break in upon her at Belville's. 

{Sits down in the middle of the Stage.) 

Peggy. Now for it. [Exit^R.H.n. 

Moody. My case is something better ; for sup- 
pose the worst — should Belville use her ill — I 
had rather tight him for not marrying my sister, 
than for debauching my wif', tor 1 will make 
her m'ne absoiutojy to-morrow; and of the two, 
1 had rither find my sster too forward than my 
wife: I expected no other from her free educa- 
tion, as she calls it, and her passion for the town. 
Well, wife and sister are names which make us 
expect love and duty, pleasure and comfort ; but 
we find 'em plagues and torments, and are equal- 
ly, though differently, troublesome to their keep- 
er. But here she comes. {Steps aside, r.h.) 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 83 

Re-enter Peggy^ r.h.d. dressed like Alithea ; and as 

she passes over the Stagc^ seems to sigh^ sob^ 

and wipe her eyes. 

Peggy. Heigho ! [Exit^ l.h. 

Moody. (^Comesfurzcard.) There the poor devil 
goes, sighing and sobbing, a woeful example of 
the fatal consequences of a town education ; but 
I am bound in duty, as well as inclination, to do 
my utmost to save her — but first I'll secure my 
own property. — (Opens r.h.d. and calls.) — Peg- 
gy I Peggy! my dear! — I will return as soon as 
possible — do you hear me? Why don't you an- 
swer? You may read in the book I bought you 
till I come back. — As the Jew says in the play, 
" Fast bind, fast find." {Locks the Door.) This is 
the best, and only security for female affections. 

[Exit, L.H. 

SCENE 11— The Park, before BehilWs House. 

Enter Sfarkish, fuddled, r.h. 

Spark. If I can but meet with her, or anybody 
that belongs to her, they will find me a match 
for 'em. When a man has wit, and a great deal 
of it, Champagne gives it a double edge, and 
nothing can withstand it — 'tis a lighted match to 
gunpowder. — I was right to" consult my friends, 
and they all agree with Moody, that I make a 
damn'd ridiculous figure, as matters stand at 
present. I'll consult Belville — this is his house 



84 THE COUNTRY GIBL. 

— he's my friend too — and no fool — It shall be so. 
Damn it, 1 must not be ridiculous. [Going to the 
Door^ sees Peggy coming.) Hold! hold! if the 
Champagne does not hurt my eye-sight, while it 
sharpens my wit, the enemy is marching up this 
way. — Come on, xMadam AUthea ; now for a 
smart fire; and then let's see who will be ri- 
diculous. 

Enter Peggy, r.h. 

Peggy. Dear me, I begin to tremble ; there is 
Mr. Sparkish, and I can't get to Mr. Belville's 
house without passing by him. He sees me, and 
will discover me ; he seems in liquor too.— 
Bless me ! 

Spark. O ho ! she stands at bay a little ; she 
don't much relish the engagement. The first 
blow is half the battle. Til be a Httle figurative 
with her. (^Aside — Approaches her.) I find, ma- 
dam, you Hke a solo better than a duet. You 
need not have been walking alone this evening, 
if you had been wiser yesterday. — What, nothing 
to say for yourself? — Repentance, 1 suppose, 
makes you as awkward and as foolish as the 
poor country girl your brother has lock'd up in 
Pall-mall. 

Peggy. I'm frighten'd out of my wits. 

{Tries to pass him.) 

Spark. Not a step further shall you go till 
you give me an account of your behaviour, and 
make me a reparation for being ridiculous. — 
What, dumb still ! Then if you won't by fair 



TH;E country girl. 85 

means, I must squeeze you to ti confession. {A^ 
he goes to seize her^ she slips by him ; hut he catches 
hold of her before she reaches BelvilWs Door.") 
Not quite so fast, if you please. — Come, come, 
let me see your modest face, and hear your soft 
tongue, or 1 shall be tempted to use you ill. 

Enter Moody, r.h. 

Moody. Hands off, you ruffian ! How dare ydu 
use a lady, and my sister, in this manner? 

{Takes Sparkishfrom her.) 

Spark. She's my property, sir ; transferred to 
me by you ; and though I would give her up to 
any body for a dirty sword-knot, yet I won't be 
bullied out of my right, though it is not worth 
that. — {Snaps his fnger's.) 

Moody. There's a fellow to be a husband ! — 
You are justified in despising him and flying 
from him. I'll defend you with my purse and 
my sword. — Knock at that door, and let me 
speak to Belvilie. {P^ggy knocks at d.f.l h. ; 
mhen the footman opens it she runs in^ l.h.) — Is 
your master at home, friend ? 

Foot. Yes, sir. 

Moody. Tell him then that I have rescued 
that lady from this gentleman, and by her de- 
sire, and m^' consent, she flies to him for pro- 
tection ; if he can get a parson, let him marry 
her this minute ; tell him so, and shut the door. 
[Exit Footm,an., d.f l.h.] And now, sir, if your 
wine has given you courage, you had better 
8 



86 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

show it upon this occasion; for you are still 
damn'cl rifliculous. 

Spark. Did you ever hear the Uke ? — Lookye, 
Mr. Moody, we are in the Park, and to draw a 
sword is an offence to the court ; so you may 
vapour as long as you please. A woman of so 
little taste is not worth fighting for ; she's not 
worth my sword ! But if you'll fight me to- 
morrow morning for diversion, 1 am your man. 

Moody. Relinquish your title in the lady to 
Belville peaceably, and you may sleep in a 
"whole skin. 

Spark. Belville ! he would not have your sis- 
ter with the fortune of a nabob ; no, no, his 
mouth waters at your country tit-bit at home ; 
much good may it do him. 

Moody. And you think so, puppy — ha, ha, ha 1 

Spark. Yes, I do, mastiff — ha, ha, ha ! 

Moody. Then thy folly is complete — ha, ha, ha ! 

Spark Thine will be so, when thou hast mar- 
ried thy country innocent — ha, ha, ha ! 

{They laugh at each other.) 

Re-enter Harcourt, r.h. 

Spark. What, my boy Harcourt ! 

Moody. What brings you here, sir ? 

Har. I followed you to Belville's to present a 
near relation of yours, and a nearer one of mine, 
to you. [Exit^ R.H. 

Spark. What's the matter now ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. 87 

Re-enter Harcourt, xoith Alitiiea, r.h. 

liar. Give me leave, gentlemen, without of- 
fence to either, to present Mrs. Harconrt to jou ! 

Spark, AHthea ! your wife ! — Mr. Mooch', are 
you in the clouds too ? 

Moody. If I am not in a dream, I am the most 
miserable walking dog that ever run mad with 
his misfortunes and astonishment ! 

Har. Why so. Jack ? Can you object to my 
happiness, when this gentleman was unworthy 
of it ? {Moody walks about in a rage.) 

Spark. This is very fine, very fine indeed ! — 
Where's your story about Belville now, 'squire 
Moody? Pr'ythee don't chafe, and stare, and 
stride, and beat thy head, like a mad tragedy 
poet — but out with thy tropes and figures. 

Moody. Zounds ! 1 can't bear it. 

[Goes hastily to BelvilWs Door^ and knocks 
hard.) 

Mi. Dear brother, what's the matter? 

Moody. The devil's the matter I the devil and 
women together. (Knocks again.) I'll break 
the door down, if they won't answer. 

{Knocks again.) 

A Footman appears in the Balcony^ in Jlai^ l.h. 

Foot. What would your honour please to have ? 

Moody Your master, rascal. 

Foot. He is obeying your commands, sir ; and 
the moment he has finished, he will do himself 
the pleasure to wait on vou. 



08 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

Moody. You sneering villain you, if your mas- 
ter does not produce that she-devil, who is now 
with him, and who with a face of innocence, has 
cheated and undone me, I'il set tire to his house. 
[Exit Footman from the Balcony. 

Spark. 'Gad so ! now I begin to smoke the 
business. Well said, simplicity, rural simplicity ! 
'Egad ! if thou hast trick'd Cerberus, here, I 
shall be so ravish'd that 1 will give this couple 
a wedding dinner. Pray, Mr. Moody, who's 
damn'd ridiculous now ? 

Moody. {Going to Sparkish.) Look ye, sir — 
don't grin, for if you dare to show your teeth at 
my misfortunes, I'll dash 'em down your impu- 
dent throat, you jackanapes. 

Spark. {Quite calm.) Very fine, faith — but I 
have no weapons to butt with a mad bull, so you 
may toss and roar by yourself, if you please. 

Enter Belville, in the Balcony. 

Bel. What does my good friend want with me? 
Moody. Are you a villain, or are you not ? 
Bel. I have obey'd your commands, sir. 
Moody. What have you done with the girl, 
sir? 

Bel. Made her my wife, as you desired. 
Spark Very true, I am your witness — 
Moody. She's my wife and I demand her. 

Enter Peggy in the Balcony. 

Peggy. No, but I an't though, bud. — What's 
the matter, dear, are you angry with me ? 



THE COUNTRY GIRL. SO 

Moody. How dare you look me in the face, 
cockatrice ? 

Peggy. How dare you look me in the face, 
bud? Have you not given me to another, when 
you ought to have married me yourself? Jiave 
you not pretended to be married to me, when 
you knew in your conscience you was not ? And 
have you not been shilly-shally for a long time ? 
So that if I had not m.irried dear Mr. Beiville, I 
should not have married at all — so I should not. 
(^Beiville and Peggy retire from the Balcony.) 

Spwk. Extremely pleasant, faith ; ha, ha, ha ! 

Moody. I am stupitied with shame, rage, and 
astonishment — my fate has o'ercome me — I can 
struggle no more with it. {Sighs.) What is 
left me ? — I cannot bear to look, or be looked 
upon — I will hurry down to my old house, take 
a twelvemonths provisions into it — cut down my 
drawhridge, run wild about my garden, which 
shall grow as wild as myself— then will I curse 
the world, and every individual in it — and when 
my rage and spirits fail me, 1 will be found dead 
among the nettles and thistles, a woeful example 
of the baseness and treachery of one sex, and of 
the falsehood, lying, perjury, deceit, impudence, 
and damnation of the other. [Exit., l.h. 

Spark. Very droll, and extravagantly comic, I 
must confess ; ha, ha, ha ! 

Enter Belville and Peggy, /rom d.f.l.h. 

Lookye, Belville, I wish you joy with all my 
heart — you have got the prize, and perhaps 



90 THE COUNTRY GIRL. 

have caught a tartar — that's no business of mine 
— If j/oii want evidence for Mr. Moody's giving 
his consent to your marriage, I shall be ready. 
I bear no ill will to that pair: I wish you hap- 
py; {ToAlithea and Har court.) — though I'm sure 
they'll be miserable — and so your humble ser- 
vant. [Exit^ L.ii. 

Peggy. I hope you forgive me, Alithea, for 
playing your brother this trick ; indeed I should 
hnve only made him and myself miserable, had 
Tve married together. 

All. Then 'tis much better as it is. But I am 
yet in the dark how this matter has been brought 
about; how your innocence, my dear, has out- 
witted his worldly wisdom. 

Peggy- I am sure I'll do any thing to please 
my bud, but marry him. 

But you, good gentry, what say you to this? 
You are to judge me — have I done amiss.' 
I've reasons wiil convince you all, and strong ones ; 
Except old folks, who hanker after young ones ; 
Bud was so passionate, and grown so thrifty ! 
■'Twas a sad life — and then, he was near fifty ! 
I'm but nineteen — my husband too is young. 
So soft, so gentle, such a winning tongue ! 
Have I, pray ladies, speak, done verj"^ wrong ? 
As for poor bud, 'twas honest to deceive him ! 
More virtuous sure to cheat him than to grieve hirn. 
Great folks, I know, will call me simple slut ; 
"Marry for love," they cry, "the country put ;" 
Marriage with them's a fashion — soon grows cool : 
But I'm for always loving like a fool. 



THE COUx>rTllY GIUL. 91 

Witli half iny fortune I would rather part, 
Than be all finery with an aching heart. 
For these strange awkward notions don't abuse tne ; 
And, as I know no better, pray excuse nie. 



Disposition of the Characters ti)hen the Curtain falls. 




R.H. 



